A World That Never Was
by hajikurazaki19
Summary: The deeper one treks into uncharted territory, the more one learns about deception, chaos, and the never-ending limitations of human integrity. Though, it's never really that simple, is it? Sequel to The Nobody Virus. A realistic portrayal.
1. Dusk

**Hey...how's it going? Haji here with a big surprise for all of you. That's right! The sequel is here!**

**Now, there are a couple of things you must realize before you dive deep into this new adventure. One, it is primarily the same format as before. I write a chapter, DeadShut writes a chapter and so on. Two, this is experimental, because it is fun to change your writing style. And three, even though it is summer for most of the United States, I just got a new job...at night. Which means I work all night, then go to school for eight hours, then go to sleep for four hours before I start the process all over again. I will only be able to really work on my stuff on Sunday night into Monday morning, so please, don't badger me or DeadShut for the extended amount of time it could take between chapters.**

**And, I wrote this chapter for my bestest buddy ever, for his birthday. It was designed specifically to entertain him, and if you don't like it, deal with it.**** :D**

**Oh, and enjoy.  
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><p>Scranton, Pennsylvania. It's one of those places where people have no idea where it is, but they always talk about it. I could never understand it. As far as I knew, the only thing Scranton really had to offer was a train yard, a temporary place for celebrities to meet their fans, and <em>The Office<em>.

But, my best friend Brian forced me to call out of work so we could hang out. I don't know why I did it. Probably because he told me he had a surprise for me. Or maybe it was because my job was beginning to make me depressed. I don't know…I just did.

"God damnit, Brian, why do you always park down here?"

Brian looked at me with this smirk. "Because, I know you won't try to come down here by yourself." He frowned. "Look, as long as we're out before nightfall, you don't have to worry about getting lost."

I folded my arms, but I knew he wasn't going to move the car. So, instead of fighting him like I normally would have, I just let it go. After all, he told me he had a surprise for me. I wouldn't have wanted to be ungrateful.

"Listen, bud, we're just going to grab a bite to eat, okay?" Brian smiled. "Then we can leave. By that time, you would have gotten your present, and I would have cheered you up. Just trust me, alright?"

I couldn't help myself. I was just so stressed out. "Whatever."

For, you see, Brian had this way about him. He would just do whatever he wanted, even if it inconvenienced me. Parking on the basement level of The Steamtown Mall was one of those habits he had. Stealing papers from my desk was another. I hated it when he did that, but we had been friends for so long, I began to expect it from him.

He led me to the food court, and pushed me into an empty seat at an empty table. "I'll get the grub. I know what you want. Don't go anywhere."

"Why would I?"

Brian winked at me. "Just stay here."

There was this suspicious feeling welling in my gut. Brian was being too happy, and he brought me to the mall to give me a surprise—as opposed to a diner, or a grocery store. He came back with a tray and an even bigger smile on his face then when he left.

"Listen, Brian," I said. "If you're going to mess with me, I'm not interested. I just want to go home and sleep. I've been stressed out. I don't have time for your games."

Brian nodded quickly, biting into whatever Subway hoagie he ordered. "Oh, I understand completely." He pushed a hoagie to me. "Just eat first. Italian, just like every other time we come here." He swallowed hurriedly. "I'll tell you when you're done."

"Brian!"

He frowned slightly. "Just trust me okay? I've got to set the tone, you know? You're too serious, bro."

I sighed. It didn't surprise me in the least that Brian was being like this. He knew he was pushing my buttons, which is probably why he was going to tell me as soon as I was done eating, rather than drag me through the whole day. So, despite my stomach feeling uneasy, and that looming depression, I ate. And after the first bite, I suddenly felt hungrier than before.

"Slow down, there's no need to rush."

I obliged. I didn't know what had come over me. I had to be a thing. Just a stupid thing that I would get over soon.

"Okay, so I can see you're excited." He glanced at me through his ridiculous gestures, losing his easy tone almost at once. "Maybe not excited. But, hear me out."

"What is it, Brian?"

"I think I have an idea for your next story," he said finally. "One that could get you into the papers nationwide."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah!" Brian pushed the tray to the end of the table and pulled out a small stack of papers. He unfolded most of them, and flattened them in front of me.

"Do you know who that is?"

I glanced at the photos, recognizing Julian Fair. "He's the CEO of Fair Financing. What about him?"

"Well, you wanted to write a story about fraud and financial scandals, right?" Brian asked. "Why not look into this guy? I mean, who gets that rich in such a short period of time? Come on, he had to have been doing something to get there. Something _illegal._"

I really didn't like the tone in his voice, but I did feel a flutter of excitement. "He's been in business for twenty-something years. That's plenty of time to get rich."

Brian arched an eyebrow. "But, buddy, the last ten years have been a recession, yet he's still making shitloads of cash? I think he's doing something illegal. Or he's committing fraud."

"Uh…"

"Come on, you know you're interested."

I couldn't lie to him. "I guess so, but I don't have any of the resources to go after something like this. This is big. Really big. Bigger than anything I've ever done before. I—"

"Don't worry about resources." Brian barked. "You wanted a groundbreaking, life changing story for your career. This is it. This will shoot you to the moon!"

"Eh, I'll think about it."

"Don't think about it too long," Brian whispered. "I lost my job today."

"What?"

"Yeah, so I can help you."

"Brian, are you crazy?" I couldn't believe this. "Fair's First fired you?"

"Yeah, selfish capitalists. But, we'll get them back, won't we?"

"I can't believe this. Brian, I'm so sor—"

"Shh!" Brian cut me off and jumped to his feet. "Did you hear that?"

I stood up too. Brian had jumped so quickly that I followed on instinct. He cupped his hand over his ear. "It sounded like someone screamed."

Again, on instinct, I cupped my hand to my ear. I closed my eyes, thinking that it would help me hear better, but it didn't. I shrugged and sat back down.

"I think unemployment has addled your brains, Brian."

But Brian didn't sit. He, like a couple other people in the food court, leaned over the balcony that overlooked a small stage. He was leaning out pretty far, and I almost thought he was going to fall, but after a few seconds, he pushed away and rushed towards me, his carefree demeanor turning into this strange agony that I've never seen before.

"We gotta go, bud."

"But, I thought we were going to—"

"Forget that!" Brian yelled. "We gotta go! Now!"

He pulled me to my feet and dragged me away from the food court, not saying anything. More people were gathering at the balcony, straining to see what was going on, and I watched them, because none of them seemed suddenly in a hurry like Brian was.

"What?" I asked jokingly. "Justin Beiber plaguing the city again?"

"We just need to leave…"

I pulled my arm away and turned back. I don't know, but I found it immensely funny that Brian was getting worked up over some teenage loser. I mean, it wasn't like he had to see him, but my slight chuckles died when I saw the first person turn around. They nearly tripped over their own feet in panic as they rushed past me, screaming.

My brain wasn't registering what was happening. It went numb for a minute as more and more people fled, pushing me to the side. I watched them, almost in slow motion. Their cries warped the air around them; the folds of their jackets obstructed my view. And I felt this sudden pit fester in my soul.

I think I might have died and gone to Hell.

It was big. Tall and slender, like an alien from a faraway planet. Its skin stretched tight around a frame that wriggled in place, like the most experienced contemporary dancers. It twisted its way over the railing of the balcony, and flipped over expertly, landing on padded feet.

It took a moment to collect itself as it hunched over and tackled a woman who had been unfortunate enough to cross paths with it. She was pregnant, and she fell on her back with a thump that rang in my ears for decades. She was pleading and crying, calling out to a man who was not that far ahead of her.

"Earnest!" she wailed. "Help me!"

The creature, a gray demon fastened from human flesh, hunched over the woman and sniffed her. Or at least, that's what it looked like to me, because it had no eyes, and no nose to speak of. All I could stare at was the jagged mouth that resembled a zipper as it wound its way into a smile.

"Come on!"

Brian punched me as hard as he could, once again dragging me away. This time, I followed, because the sound of that woman's scream was masked over with a guttural moan, and the slosh of blood on tile. It was the scariest thing I've ever heard.

"Brian," I breathed as we ran farther. "What the fuck are those things?"

Brian didn't answer me. All he could do was run, and I heard his panicked breaths over the din of the other mall goers. My blood froze over as we made it to the other end of the top floor, only to find more of those gray creatures, jumping about. They landed on top of people, and chewed through them like they were nothing more than sheets of pink tissue paper.

"Brian!" It took me a moment to realize that I was crying. I suppose I was scared, but this fear wasn't natural. No, this fear was deep inside me somewhere. A fear that my ancestors must have felt for thousands of years. That primal fear of the unknown that had just completely taken me over. "Brian!"

"Shut up!"

Brian pulled me into a hallway and closed the door behind him. He slid to the floor and covered his face, breathing shallowly despite his being out of breath. People thumped against the door, begging for help from people who could not give it, and they were instantly slaughtered by those monsters.

"We have to help them!" I screamed. "We can't just leave them!"

"And do what?" Brian jumped to his feet. "And do what? Get killed ourselves? No, we're not leaving this hallway!"

"Brian—"

"You didn't see it…" Brian sobbed and I held him up as he fell into me. "You didn't see what they did…"

"We have to get out of here," I said. There was no determination in my voice. Only fear and desperation. "We have to get out of here."

"We can't go downstairs," Brian breathed. "They're down there. We have to get to the train yard."

"I'm scared."

Brian closed his eyes and sobbed again. "Me too, buddy. Me too."

I was shaking. Even as we cracked the door open, even as we were rushed with the screech of dying people, even as we snuck out of that empty hallway, I was shaking. My knees almost gave way as the first thing we saw was the mangled corpse of a teenage girl. Her eyes were wide open, and her body was half way torn apart. She looked almost flawless in death, but her stomach had been ripped out, and I could see where those creatures had spread her entrails.

The people who were still able to run scattered, crushing her guts under their shoes with a sickening squelch. I faltered at the sight, and grabbed for Brian, more for support than anything else. He moved away from me uneasily and turned around, clutching his head.

He vomited on the spot. The sound almost made me do the same, but I couldn't risk drawing attention to us. I helped Brian along, and I began to wonder why this was happening. There were hundreds of people all around, and they were either being slaughtered by these creatures or trampling over each other. It was Hell.

We made our way towards the food court, not bothering to take our time or be discreet, looking around corners. Always glancing over our shoulders. A lot of men were trying to take the women and hide them somewhere. Children were hopping over the fast food counters and wedging themselves underneath. I wanted to do the same, but Brian kept pulling me along. He had an idea in his head, and I wasn't going to stop him.

I could see the boardwalk. The one that overlooked the train yard. The giant windows that seemed to separate it from the rest of the world were shattered, no doubt due to a crowd of panicking people. And, for the briefest moment, I paused.

I hadn't made a sound, and my breaths were silent, but that one step. That one step echoed throughout the whole building, even over the din. And I immediately regretted it. Brian looked at me, motioning with his eyes to the dead body of that pregnant woman. She had completely caved in, and draped over her was a body.

It was small, barely larger than a newborn child, but it was squirming around in her flesh, hissing at the noise and gorging itself. Its slurping upset my stomach, and I nearly vomited again, but I stopped myself, letting out a barely audible gurgle of disgust.

The creature looked up, and I think it spotted us, because it slithered out of the woman's body, revealing that the rest of it had been curled inside like a rubber tube. The woman's flesh, scraped along the creature, and chunks of her intestines clung to the creature's wrinkled skin.

Even when standing, it wasn't very big. But, it was already dancing in place, and it had set its sights on us. Brian didn't even hesitate in attacking it. He hit it over the head with a chair, and I ran, begging him to follow me.

"Brian!" I bellowed as I jumped over shards of broken glass. I dashed out onto the boardwalk and didn't stop until I was at the end. Brian had followed me, much to my relief, but the creature he had attacked was hot on his heels.

I floundered around for a second, trying to decide how we were going to get out of this. I looked over the edge of the boardwalk. A train car was just underneath it, and if I could build up enough momentum, I could jump off and land safely.

I didn't have any time to think, though, and after seeing another, larger creature follow what I was presuming was a baby, I jumped, eyes closed, body braced. I landed hard, but my body managed to roll over fast enough to avoid anything more permanent than a bruise. I looked up, and I could barely see Brian. He had stopped at the edge, and even from such a height, I could see he was petrified.

"Jump, Brian!"

"I can't!" Brian shook harder. "I'm scared of heights!"

"Jump, Brian!" I yelled. "I'll catch you, I promise!"

"I can't!"

"Brian!" I was begging with him now. Pleading. "Think about it! What are you more afraid of? The fall? Or whatever the fuck those things are?"

Brian edged his way back, crying. "The fall!"

"Brian! Jump! Please!" I held my arms up. "I'll catch you!"

Brian looked behind him. Those creatures were so close, and there wasn't a thing I could do to stop them. I could only hope and pray and wish that Brian would do something other than stand there. I willed him to get strength. At least enough to run off the edge of that boardwalk. The creatures were almost upon him when he suddenly bolted. I thought he had run towards them, but in less than a second, I knew.

He had jumped.

And, just like I promised, I caught him. But, he was moving so fast, he knocked me back farther than I thought he would have. My vision blurred as the back of my head slammed into the metal. Brian was freaking out, and he was thrashing around as I tried to calm him down.

Falling from such a height made the pandemonium inside the mall almost nonexistent, and it became like a haunting whistle.

"Brian!" I couldn't yell too loudly because my head felt like it had split open, and my fears had been confirmed when I felt the back of my shirt warm to an unsettling temperature.

But, he wouldn't listen. His fear of heights had turned him into a child. A child throwing a fit, and he kept hitting me, worming around in my arms. I tried to calm him down, or at least get him to say something, but he rolled over. I held onto him because I thought he was being taken away from me, but he had attempted to push me away.

He failed.

And the next thing I knew, I landed on top of him. There was this tight silence that followed, and the air seemed to bite with tension as Brian gulped. I had heard it—we both did. That telltale sign that something was wrong. It wasn't the sniffing that alerted me to our desolation, but an audible crack. It wasn't the same as something breaking, no, it was much more terrifying.

It was the sound of glass shattering in a fire, the stretch of brittle skin. I had shattered Brian's leg. Not just broken it.

"It hurts," Brian breathed. I saw the pain in his face just barely though the haze that had perched in my head. "I think it might be broken."

"Oh my god," I couldn't think straight. I had no idea what I was supposed to do. "Brian…"

"But, at least we're safe, yeah?" Brian smiled.

Could you believe it? He smiled, and he chuckled softly, like he was crazy. Sure, we were safe for now, but we were also stranded, and I knew he was going to need some kind of medical attention soon or he was going to die. I fished around in my pockets, realizing after a second that my cellphone was gone. I must have dropped it, but I continued to move my fingers around, thinking that if I did that, then it would appear.

And when it didn't, I reached into Brian's pockets.

"What are you looking for?" Brian whispered hoarsely.

"Your phone."

"It's in my back pocket." Brian flinched when I rolled him on his side. "Careful…"

I pulled his phone out and pressed a button, waiting for the screen to light up. There was a deep crack in the screen, but it flickered on, and I dialed the first number that came to mind.

911.

"Nine-one-one, what's your emergency?"

I looked up, breathing into the phone. My heart stopped as the creature leaned over the edge of the railing. It was hissing, and I saw ropes of bloodied spittle fly from its jaw. The larger creature seemed to be egging it on, because I saw it nudge the baby.

"Hello?"

"H-help me…"

"Sir, where are you?"

I switched the phone to my other ear and pulled Brian as quickly as I could. He whimpered and moaned, but he pushed himself with his good leg, and I started to cry again.

"We're at the Steamtown Mall. In the train yard," I started. "We're being attacked by monsters. You have to help us. Brian broke his leg."

"Sir, did you say monsters?"

"Yes! We are being attacked by monsters! Big gray ones, with zippers for mouths! You have to send someone!"

My screaming echoed through the train yard, losing power the farther it traveled. The creature heard it though, and with a renewed burst of energy, it vaulted over the railing and grabbed onto a broken column of metal. It slid down like an acrobat, swinging its body like it weighed nothing at all. Brian shrieked and pushed me away.

I dropped the phone, and grabbed Brian again. I could vaguely hear the operator speaking, but I didn't have any more time. Those few minutes of safety had been cut away, and the only thing I could think about was helping Brian.

"Run!" Brian hit me. "You have to get out of here!"

"I can't leave you!"

"Go!"

Brian pulled his keys out of his pocket and shoved them in mine. I held onto him, pulling him along with me, but he kept pushing me away. Our arguing had reached a level of severity that I only thought was possible in movies. We were both screaming and crying, and it seemed that so much time had passed, but I realized after Brian shoved me with all his strength that we had only been yelling for a few seconds.

The creature landed in the dirt, much the same way demons from horror movies had. Its legs were spread, and it swayed from left to right. It made these weird clicks in its throat, and it regurgitated a huge lump of partially digested human flesh. Brian paled.

"Run!"

I don't know what had hit me. This sudden adrenaline rush that carried me away. I had temporarily gone deaf, because I didn't hear Brian scream. I didn't hear his body hit the dirt. I didn't hear the tear of his flesh, or his begs for mercy, or his calls to God. I didn't hear anything.

But I did hear the titter of feet. Tiny footsteps that were so much faster than my own. The creature had killed Brian, and was now after me with a fierce determination that I had never seen before. All I could feel was panic and fear, all I could sense was death. Clouds of dust swirled around my feet as I ran faster, and it was only covered by the sound of the creature getting closer.

I darted in between the abandoned boxcars. I heard the creature hesitate for a second before the dim clang of pads on metal continued after me. I could hear it bounding over the cars, leaping over the space in between them, and landing softly, but I could only catch glimpses of its shadow in the dirt.

My brain was shutting down. I was in full survival mode. Even the constant ache over my whole body numbed to a dull throb. I was blind to everything except the creature's shadow, deaf to all but its clicks and hisses. My body braced itself as I rolled under one of the boxcars. I hadn't expected the creature to be so close, but I felt it crash into me as I stood.

We tumbled over each other. It was trying to bite me, but with my fear-coursed agility, I managed to keep it from tearing me to shreds. With such close contact, I could tell it was inexperienced. It didn't have the same accuracy as I had seen in the bigger ones, and it faltered where it should have been strong. I kicked it over me and scrambled to my feet. Not even a whole breath later, I was bowled over again.

I threw my arms up, and punched the creature square in the face. It hissed in pain, and I took advantage of my lucky shot. I hit it again, and again, until it flopped on the ground, clearly disoriented and weakened. I rolled under the boxcar again, this time much more slowly and stood up on the other side. The adrenaline was beginning to wear off, and my incoming sluggishness was going to be the death of me if I couldn't figure out how to kill that monster.

I wheezed, choking slightly on the dust I had kicked up in my scuffle. I felt the back of my head, and that fear crashed into me as my vision blurred again. It had become sharp as I was pumped full of hormones, but as my strength waned, so did my lucidity. The creature struggled to its feet, shaking its pain away. I don't know what happened after that, but we made some kind of connection before it flew through the open boxcar doors.

I didn't even think. I hooked my hand through the handle of the door on my side and pulled it with my last remaining energy. It slid easily despite being rusted, and it dented as the creature slammed into it. I heard it groan inside and I fell to my hands and knees. I had been so terrified, I vomited. It felt warm, and it was streaked with blood, but I forced myself up and I made my way back to Brian.

Even though I shouldn't have been surprised, I cried when I saw Brian's body ripped apart. His eyes were closed, and he was frowning. He had obviously died a painful death, but I could also see that determination in his face. That same determination I had grown accustomed to over the years. It was the same face he had when he was telling me about Julian Fair's possible frauds.

I felt more than ashamed of myself as I grabbed him. And that shame worsened as I dragged his body to the other side of the boxcar. The creature inside was shifting around, bleeding slightly from the head. It was slow, trying to regain its stability.

"I'm so sorry, Brian."

But, I knew my apology wouldn't be enough. I knew I was defiling him in the worst way, but it was all about survival, and I wasn't strong enough to fight it again once it was sober enough to chase me. So I had to trap it. I hoisted Brian's body into the boxcar, shoved it in as far as I could, and shut the door. I couldn't believe I had done something so horrible, but I had to, and I hoped that Brian would forgive me.

I only left after his blood began to trickle in between the cracks and pool in the dirt. I heard the creature slurping at his body and resisted to urge to heave up whatever was left in my stomach. I made my way back to the boardwalk because I had this ridiculous thought in my head that the cell phone would still be there. And it was, but it had been destroyed.

I craned my neck to see how the hell I was going to get back up to the boardwalk. I was so far down, and I wasn't strong enough to climb back up without a useable ladder. And trying to climb up the side of a boxcar and leaping to grab the railing was out of the question. I was stuck until help came or I died.

But that wasn't a very good option either. There had to be a way back inside. I knew there was one somewhere, so the only thing I could do was make my way around. After all, how did the workers leave the building to get to the train yard? They must have used some sort of door or tunnel. All I had to do was find it.

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><p>The stretch from the boardwalk to the closest part of the lower level of the mall building was treacherous. All I could think about as I weaved through the train cars was whether or not another one of those creatures was going to find me. The gravel beneath my feet crunched and I ground my teeth every time I heard something. My deepest fear was that the creature in the boxcar had escaped and was coming to exact its revenge.<p>

I couldn't even fathom what those things were. They had come from humans. I saw it with my own eyes, the way one had slithered out of that woman's body. It had come from _inside _her. But whatever that creature was, it was not human. That much I knew. It didn't have that same feel. Even when I had made that tiny connection to it, it felt alien and distant. It was something not from this world. No, this world could never produce something so heinous.

After a while, I heard shouting. My first instinct was to hide behind the closest boxcar. I stabbed myself mentally for being so cowardly, but I was not about to play hero and lose my life. I peered around the edge of the boxcar after a minute. I saw a man fighting one of the bigger creatures. He had it around its neck and he was struggling to pin it down.

I almost wanted to help him, but I wouldn't have been able to do much. The man was screaming in fear, and howled in rage as he finally forced the creature to the ground. It wormed around underneath him, hissing madly and clicking. It tried to push itself back up, but it couldn't seem to get a grip on the looser dirt. It flipped about and the man was about crush its head into the ground, when it suddenly slipped out of his grip.

I gasped as softly as I could. The creature seemed to have broken its bones, but it slithered out like a snake and rose to its feet, a solidified ghost. It took a second before it could move, but it lashed out at the man, separating his head from his body. It hovered over him and I could see its zipper like mouth curling into a smile. This had to be the same one that had attacked the pregnant woman.

I jumped into the boxcar, thanking God that the other door had been closed. I don't think it heard me, but I could feel its eyes—or rather its knowledge of me—burrowing into my back. I hoped that it wasn't going to investigate further, but if I could stay quiet enough, I could see where it was going, and then I'd be able to get back inside.

After a minute, I chanced sliding my feet over the edge of the boxcar. After another minute, I chanced climbing out. As the dirt moved under my shoes, I paused, straining to hear if I had been discovered. I didn't hear anything, and my gut was telling me to get back into the boxcar, but I was defenseless and I just wanted to get away. I stuck my hand in my pocket and touched Brian's keys, feeling—once again—that sick shame in the pit of my stomach.

But, I sighed and ran across the remaining track of train tracks. I didn't see the creature anywhere, though I could feel it breathing down my neck. I could hear it creeping up on me. It felt like paranoia, the constant glance over the shoulder, the hunched hurried way I moved. But, I eventually came to an open fire exit. It looked like someone had tried to escape—probably that man—but the hallway was quiet. Excruciatingly so.

I stood in the doorway for a long time. I didn't know if I really wanted to go back in there. I could have just kept walking outwards until one of the tracks led me to some sort of civilization. Some place other than here. I could have done that, but there was no telling if there were more creatures out there, and I didn't really know my way on foot. I had always driven through this area. Brian's car was just on the other side. In the parking garage. All I had to do was cross the mall.

I could do that, right?

The silence grew into a buzz as the florescent lights overhead began to flicker. As I got closer to the mall itself, I could see that the man had fought that creature the entire way. There were holes punched into the plaster walls, and blood was smeared all along the ceiling. I was shocked at the splatter everywhere, and I became hesitant as soon as I placed my palm on the door.

There was this unusual shudder that ran down my spine. The door felt warm, and when I opened it, I nearly fainted.

It was silent. As soon as I left the false safety of that abandoned corridor, I heard a splash. There was a light echo, and I looked down to find my feet in a pool half an inch thick. It was black, a gelatinous lacquer of some substance I didn't recognize. It couldn't have been blood. I hadn't been gone long enough for the blood to clot like this. It was something else entirely, and it was everywhere.

The entire mall was quiet. It was like a terrible purgatory, like the devil had swallowed this place. There were bodies piled all over, intestines hanging from the kiosks, puddles of blood that rivaled the mightiest of lakes. And globs and globs of that black substance lined the walls.

I heard crashing in the distance, and I threw myself on the tile in panic. I arched my neck back, and those creatures were flying around like monkeys, jumping from one side of the top floor to the other. They were destroying everything, and they attacked each other like playful monstrosities. It was sickening the way they sounding. Warped, clicking laughter. They were having fun. Fun at the expense of countless human beings. Men women and children who did not deserve the fate that had befallen them.

I felt this intense hate for them. And I wanted to do was get out of here. In one piece. I didn't even know if anyone else had escaped, or if the police were actually going to show up. I mean, I sounded crazy. Gray monsters attacking a mall? That sounded crazy, even to me.

But, I stayed low, and I waited for an opportunity to run. But, then it struck me as a bad idea to do so. If I ran, then they would hear me, then they would chase me. And then they would probably kill me. I had to have a plan.

Boscov's was on the other side of the mall. The easiest way to get there would be to take the elevator and then get to the parking garage. I could manage that. But there were a terrifyingly small amount of places to hide along the way. I couldn't run the whole way, but I couldn't be slow either.

I froze as I heard another crash, and when I was certain that I hadn't been noticed, I splashed the black goo all over my clothes. To me, it seemed that it was like some kind of scent, and by me covering myself in it, I could pass through relatively unnoticed. But, then again, I didn't know the scope of these monsters' intelligence.

I waited for a long while before I moved. I thought that I had been discovered because I felt this silence stab me through the head. The silence sounded like it had been hired to find me and badger me, but when I spotted my opportunity, I pounced on it.

I saw those creatures had moved ahead, and they looked like they had spotted some poor citizen and were deciding to play around with their food before ultimately killing it. I snaked along the tile, leaving a huge trail of blood behind me. I made it to the wall and froze again, feeling the thump in my chest pound the inside of my eardrums. I almost couldn't take it, the ominous humming, the clicking laughter of demons, the constant fear.

I slid along the wall, passing by the abandoned stores, feeling this jarring realization that I might actually die in here. This thought scared me and I pushed myself along, getting this desire to live that I had not previously had. It was like my betrayal of Brian's body coupled with my selfish desires was giving me this strength. It was alien to me. My job, my home, money; it didn't really matter. I wanted to live.

And I made it my mission to do so. Right there, at that moment.

I had been coming to this mall for a while, mostly because it was the only one really worth going to around my area. And I remember that there had been this vacant store for a while. I couldn't really remember what had been there before, but it had been purchased by someone, and they were going to build an indoor mini-golf course.

To be honest, it was creepy. It was only halfway built, and the way the lights were dimmed reminded me of those empty warehouses where people kill other people for fun. And the way it flickered didn't help that much either. I could barely see inside, but I passed it, facing forward with a renewed vigor.

However, that vigor evaporated as a stealthy gray appendage reached through the bars and wrapped around my ankle. I panicked, and screamed. I know I shouldn't have, but I was surprised and I couldn't help it, and I quickly learned that it was the biggest mistake of my whole life. I kicked that creature as hard as I could. It looked like it was trapped, but I didn't stick around after I hit it.

I heard its cries of anger, and it drew the attention of almost every living creature in the building. I jumped to my feet, not caring if I was seen or not. I didn't have time. I slipped in the pools of blood around me as I scrambled towards the elevator. I wasn't as fast as I would have liked, nor was I as agile as I had been in high school, but I managed to dodge a gray body as one of the creatures catapulted itself over the balcony. I think it had tried to land on top of me, but I stumbled at just the right moment.

That coursing adrenaline flared up again, and I found myself filled with energy, though it was going fast. My shoes crushed the entrails of countless strangers, and I could see the elevator. The door was propped open, and I could hear it calling my name. It was so close, I could barely contain myself. But, I could also hear the creature right behind me. I wouldn't have time to fight it one on one. I would have to get creative.

I was surprised that there was only one chasing me. I wondered if it was the same one that I had trapped in the boxcar. Maybe it had escaped. Maybe it was going to exact its revenge by bringing me to the others to be toyed with. Or worse, maybe it was the parent, coming to rip me apart for surviving. I didn't care very much though, for as soon as I was upon the elevator, I slipped in a small puddle of blood, and was tackled at exactly the same time.

I don't know what happened. I felt the creature hit me, and I felt the tile floor against my back, and the burning of a sprained wrist. But, we crashed into the elevator, and it slammed against the back paneling. I heard this splitting crack, and I felt the creature weaken. I think it might have died, or just been knocked unconscious, but it reared up a second later and lashed out, nicking my shoulder before sinking to the floor.

I pushed it away and kicked it over and over, hoping that I could get out of the elevator before it woke up. It only twitched, and after a few seconds, I broke down, sobbing and sniffing and crying like a child. But, I had deserved it, right? Had I not earned this one chance to loose myself in anguish?

My best friend was killed by a monster, I had sacrificed the sanctity of his body, I had seen men women and children being murdered by the strangest creatures I've ever seen, and now I was alone in a mall, surrounded by death, and all I could do was cry for those few seconds I had to myself. Was that so wrong?

The door slid open after what felt like an eternity. I waited for a while before I stood up. I really just wanted to hide in that elevator forever, but I couldn't afford to. I was so close to the garage, I couldn't bear the thought of giving up now. I heard another crash, this one closer and more terrifying, and I was going to step out, but then a man crashed to the floor. His stomach had been halfway eaten, and when he saw me, he reached for me.

"Help me…" He sputtered softly. "Help…me…"

I froze, and shoved myself to the side, pressing as hard as I could into the wall. I made myself invisible, and the protests of the man grew stronger as soon as I had disappeared.

"No!" He cried. I could just imagine the desperate stretch of his arm, the sadness in his voice. "Help me!"

I shook my head, even though I knew he couldn't see me, and sucked in a sob as I heard the man die. I couldn't help him. I was too weak. My vision blurred again, I was overcome with this dizziness. I shook my head again, trying to shake away the darkness that was trying to claim my soul. I blinked a couple of times and shuddered. I couldn't hear anything besides the man's dying breaths, but I didn't want to risk running into another creature.

"Help me…please."

I couldn't do that. I was so sorry.

His pleas became more intense as I skirted out of the elevator and towards the famous department store. Boscov's was so close. I could see inside. The racks were broken and disheveled. There was evidence of looting. But, I didn't care. I ran, bolted as fast as I could, until I was safely inside. I found it strange that there were no creatures along the way. Perhaps they had moved back towards the food court to eat the children who had hidden there.

And immediately I felt shameful again.

I dove into one of the only racks that were still fully stocked. The entrance to the mall was barren and it felt like I was clawing my way out of war. I was still covered in that black liquid, and it began to smell horrendous. I had no idea what it was, but the smell knocked me back, and I couldn't believe that I had not noticed it before. I ripped my jacket off and tossed it as far away as I could. I wanted to leave as many distractions behind me as I could, just in case if I was followed.

My jacket landed with a thump in the corner where dozens of mannequins were displaying the trendiest socks. I then heard a rustle. And to my horror, a gray creature stood up, and moved around. I ducked, and steadied the hangers, trying my best to stop the noise. In the stiffened silence, I heard it shuffle around in the socks and return to whatever it was doing. I heard tearing flesh and soft thumping.

Fuck!

I was trapped. My foolish human emotions led me to believe that I was in the clear. That I was safe because I was in the store that was connected to the parking garage. How idiotic of me. How selfish and stupid of me to believe something like that. How stupid, how stupid, how stupid.

But, I couldn't stay. I had to move. And now that I was closer than ever, dying was just not an option. I backed out from my hiding place and slipped away as fast and as silently as I could. My feet splashed in blood, and when I heard the creature move again, I threw myself behind some more racks. To me, I was making so much noise, my ears felt like they were bleeding, but I must have been really quiet, because I didn't hear the titter of feet, nor did I hear the angry hiss or the taunting clicks of that monster.

"Psst!"

I whipped around. There was a little girl hiding in one of the racks, and she placed her finger to her lips before I could even respond. I stared at her for a long time, before she motioned to me and moved some of the clothes on her rack over. I glanced over in the corner where the creature was and scuttled over as soon as I felt it was safe enough.

The first thing the little girl did was hug me. I hadn't been expecting it, but it felt nice to be touched by another human being. It felt nice that I was being held because it instilled this new sense of purpose in my life. We were survivors together; she and I, and we could not let it go. No matter what. I think we shared this mentality, for not long after our embrace, we snuck down one of the aisles.

Unfortunately, we had been spotted by the creature, and it leapt at us with an agility and grace that turned it into a dancer capable of horrid mutilation. I pushed the little girl out of the way, and fell face-first into the fake marble tile. I had expected it to tear me apart, rip open my guts and slurp them like spaghetti, but it didn't come. I felt it squatting on top of me, and I felt its hot breath on my open wounds, but it didn't bite me.

The little girl gasped and screamed, and I couldn't think of a thing to do to defend myself. I looked up as best as I could, and motioned for her to run.

"Go!" I shouted. "Run away." I don't know, but I thought that—somehow—my telling her to flee would make up for the fact that I betrayed my best friend and ignored the cries of a dying man.

The little girl fled just as I told her to, and my cheek was pressed into the cool fake marble as the creature pressed down on the gash in the back of my head.

"Please don't kill me," I breathed. I didn't really believe that I could rationalize with it, but what else could I do?

I was steeped in silence again. I heard the distinct sounds of sniffing, and then my whole body numbed as I felt a wet tongue slide into my skull. My vision went dark instantly, and this warm feeling enveloped my body. It felt good. Too good to fully describe without sounding crazy.

I was dying, I knew it.

And the feeling of blood welling out of my head and onto my shirt reaffirmed my assumption, and it was being sucked out by the devil's disciple. I blinked a couple of times. I could feel the coolness of my eyes closing and the sound of my heart slowing down. And it mounted into a slight burning, and then it erupted into this horrifying, side-splitting pain.

"Oh, God," I wailed. "Why does it hurt so much?"

"Get up!"

I opened my eyes, and I was being pulled to my feet. It took me a moment to pull myself together, and when I did, there was an incredibly fat man huffing and puffing to move me. I looked around, lost in this daze.

"Am I dead yet?" I mumbled. "Is this heaven?"

"No, boy! You ain't dead yet." The fat man hit me. "You're still alive, and you will fight for survival. Do you hear me?"

I blinked again. "How come it didn't kill me?"

The fat man heaved again. I was still halfway on the floor and I looked around. The department had been destroyed more. And it looked like the creature had fled. For what reason, I had no idea, but there was the fat man, and another younger man with him. I jumped and stood quickly.

"Are we the only ones left?" I blurted.

The younger man nodded, and he burst into tears. The fat man growled angrily and pushed me and the young man along.

"I don't know," he said. "But we can't stay. That thing is going to get the rest of them."

"How did you beat it?" I still couldn't believe that I was alive. And I found it just as unbelievable that this fat man had been able to fight the creature off on his own.

The fat man smiled. "I shot it."

"We have to get out of here."

I nodded. "Yeah. I have keys. My car is just outside…"

I must have paled to a shade of white not yet discovered because the fat man grabbed me, and shook me slightly. I nearly died for the third time that day, because I just remembered that Brian was being an asshole when we first got here. And he didn't move his car like every other time. His car was on the basement level. In the dark.

"It's on the basement level." I croaked.

The fat man sighed in relief. "Oh, good. At least we're halfway there."

The young man shivered. "But, there are no lights down there. They're all busted. If we go down there, we'll get lost."

I had to agree. But, the risk was worth it. I mean, to me, it was better to die in the dark, where no one could see how horrible you were killed then be in a department store, cowering like a fool. But, I was neither excited nor was I fit to make such a trek into uncharted darkness. I had no idea what could possibly be down there. What if those creatures had migrated down there? They seemed like creatures of darkness, why wouldn't they have gone to the deepest bowels of a mall they had just massacred?

"We should get going if we're going to make it before those fuckers come back." The fat man made his way to the escalator, which had been slicked with blood.

I followed cautiously. I hadn't seen that little girl anywhere, and I didn't know if she was still alive. I didn't even know how much time had passed since the last time I was outside. When I found my way back in, it was still daylight, but there was no telling how long it has been since then. I figured a few hours, but even then, I wasn't sure.

The fat man stopped at the bottom of the escalator. He held his hand out, and he reminded me of a cop. It was the way he motioned for us to follow him up the escalator, the way he held his gun, the way he had this commanding air about him.

"Are you an officer?" the young man asked.

The fat man nodded. "Earnest Garber, Sheriff of the Scranton Police Department."

I frowned in thought. Earnest sounded familiar to me. That was the same name that that pregnant woman had screamed out when she was being slaughtered by a demon. The same name that she begged for help, but he didn't turn back. I don't know—for some reason—that really got under my skin. And then I got angry, and really really hungry.

"You asshole!"

Earnest reeled back as I kicked him.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He screamed back.

"You let your wife get attacked and killed by those monsters!" I kicked him again, and he fell onto the escalator, which promptly stopped. "You didn't try to help her at all! How could you?"

The young man tried to stop me from attacking the Sheriff, but I was so astounded by his cowardice, that I couldn't stop myself from beating him senseless. I kept hitting him, cursing him at the top of my lungs. At this point, my will to live and my will to die were so twisted and mangled, nothing mattered anymore. To me, it was the same either way.

Those creatures must have heard me. I mean, who couldn't? I was screaming the most horrible obscenities to ever exist after all. I wanted them to find us, just so they could tear open this stupid motherfucker and spread his blood over the universe. I wanted this sick twisted, betraying fuck to die at the hands of those monsters. He deserved it. He deserved what they would do to him.

I snapped out of my rampage just in time to realize that something was wrong. That was such an outburst, and I had no idea where it had come from. I felt it crawling in my arms. The pain, this burning. It was like I had been taken over by unseen malevolent forces. And this hunger. I could hear this clawing in my stomach, and I just wanted it to go away.

"Hey, let's go!"

I didn't even realize that Earnest had stood up. I had been lost in these consuming thoughts for so long, that he and the young man had made it up the escalator while I was still standing in the same spot. But, I assumed they had called out to me because I had a car readily available, and they couldn't make it back to theirs. I thought that was incredibly selfish and loathsome, but I dealt with it. I wanted to live.

No, I didn't.

Yes, I did, so I ran up those ever moving stairs that had stopped, scrambling over the blood, gritting my teeth in anguish and frustration. I heard banter near the mall entrance and that fear kicked in again. I couldn't understand it. Not one bit. And it frightened me even more when I saw two of those creatures slither after me.

It was unreal the way they moved. They seemed to use the building itself as their mode of transportation, and their agility was remarkable. I think a fearful appreciation welled in my chest at that moment. Completely blinded by adrenaline, yes, but it was the same appreciation one had for militaries who could so easily take over cities. It was like a fear of God, or just as equally a fear of the devil.

But, I had no more time. They were after me. I could hear that they had been slowed. I chanced a look back, and I could see that they were so full from gorging on the flesh of the innocent, that they had lost their speed. They were still agile, and nearly impossible to outrun, but they had shown a weakness, and—to me—that was a major advantage. I ducked through clothes racks that were still intact as soon as the bottoms of my feet hit level floor. Earnest and the young man were already at the elevator that would take us to the basement level of the parking garage.

They were only waiting for me.

I could see the reflection of the creature in the whites of their eyes as I rocketed into the elevator. Just like before, one of the creatures was right on top of me, but I wasn't as fortunate this time.

It crashed into me, crushing me against the back panel with enough momentum to rip the elevator right out of the wall. I lost my breath instantly, and the lights began to flicker as the elevator moved down. The first thing that hit me was the blind panic I fell into. I had lost my vision yet again, but it was because the gash in the back of my head was spewing blood, and in my attempt to stop the bleeding, I guided it into my eyes. And the flickering lights didn't help. The creature flailed about, and I was slashed over and over with flying appendages, some human, some not.

"Hold it down!"

I heard Earnest yell, and I heard the horrifying screech of the creature as he crushed its leg under his boot. I didn't hear any cracking, so I assumed that there were no bones, but the severity of its cry made me feel so alone that I nearly let my life slip away at that moment.

"Don't you dare die on me, boy!" Earnest shoved me. "Get up!"

The elevator slowed to a stop, and as soon as the door opened, the creature slithered out into the darkness. Earnest and the young man stepped out, too, though they did so in urgency.

"Where's your car?"

I reached into my pocket without saying a word. The young man looked around nervously. I thought he was going to vomit, he looked so pale. But, I shivered internally and gasped for breath. My brain was throbbing, alive with its own heartbeat, and I could feel my strength leaving. I had maybe ten minutes before I bled out.

But, I bet ten minutes would be too much time for me to be eaten.

"Oi!" Earnest growled at me. "Get your ass moving! We're almost outta here!"

I snapped back to my warped reality and stepped out of the elevator. When the doors closed, the light went with them, and I shook. I hated it down here, and the young man hadn't lied when he said that the lights were all busted. I couldn't see too much ahead of me, but I could vaguely remember where Brian had parked. Somewhere in the boondocks. That's where he always parked.

"I'm scared." I breathed.

I had never really admitted it to myself before. Even though my body was reacting exactly the way it should have when faced with such an encounter, I had never actually said those two words. I was scared, and that fear was what was keeping me alive. And that same fear was going to be the one that was going to get me to that car, and as far away from The Steamtown Mall as physically possible. That fear, that grew with every step taken into the darkness.

"He parked in the back somewhere, I think."

Earnest grumbled to himself. He was obviously displeased with the fact that he had to travel farther to get to safety. I didn't understand why he was complaining, though. He was alive, wasn't he? Shouldn't that alone be a reason to never complain again? Was I missing something?

"Hey!" There it was again, that anger that had no place in this situation. There was just this need to kill that bastard. "You need to lead us. I don't know what your car looks like!"

"It's not mine!" I bellowed. "It's Brian's car! Brian's! And I left him!"

Earnest punched me. "Pull yourself together! We don't have time for this!"

"Guys?"

I turned to the young man, who had already gone some much farther ahead than I was comfortable with. I could barely see him. There was just a plain silhouette, and not even a moment later, he was tackled by the creature and torn apart. The creature didn't even eat him like I had been expecting, no, it just ravaged him. And then it tossed his head at us, almost like it was a warning.

It was at this moment that I realized that we were dealing with something far more intelligent than ourselves. Something with all the animosity humans felt towards each other, mixed with an insatiable thirst for killing. It was worse than the nightmares I had dreamed as a horror obsessed child, stronger than any emotion I've ever known.

"Let's go!"

That was just the thing I needed. Earnest's roar of impatience kicked me in the rear enough to shoot me through the darkness despite my fear, and towards Brian's car. The creature, although it lunged at me, did not follow me further than that. I began to wonder why, and when I crashed into a car, I figured it out pretty quickly.

I landed on the pavement, and I felt my head split open for the fourth time. I stood up as quickly as I could and reached my hands outwards, feeling the cool metal of the vehicle I had hit. I could then tell that I was being toyed with. This maze of cars was the playground. I was the defenseless toddler. And that creature was undeniably the bully.

I moved forward, bumping into countless cars and vans as I blindly searched for the one that would get me out of here. I kept touching metal, and I would click the panic button on Brian's keys, but nothing happened.

"Earnest?" I shouted. "Where are you?"

"Over here!"

I made my way to his voice, but I ran into another car. I fell to my knees as I dropped the key to freedom. I heard them jingle, and I kicked them away like a fucking lunatic.

"Fuck!"

Earnest was closer. "What happened?"

"I dropped the fucking keys!" I yelled back. I didn't quite know what that sound was that came from my throat. It sounded angry, sad, desperate, and self-mutilating at the same time.

"Well, find them!"

I moved my hands along the pavement, feeling them shake as I grew more and more anxious. The creature had not attacked me yet, even though I was sure it was close. For all I knew, it could have been right behind me, breathing silently, waiting for me to find my keys and then kill me. I think I would have preferred that over what actually happened.

It hit me like a bullet. This sudden ravenous hunger that wormed its way into every part of my being. That clawing in my stomach became something so much more. It was like I had been filled with a famine, and that I had to feed it.

The creature tackled me, and as it sat on my chest, I knew we had a connection. A deeper connection than anything I could have possibly imagined. Something so much more than just coming from humans. We were connected on a molecular level. We were the same.

But, I had smiled in my face, and it regurgitated as much of its stomach contents onto my chest as it could, and I felt this jarring disconnection from reality. I was instantly enveloped in warm, and my blood curdled. But, it was knocked away by a gun shot, and the creature fled. I sat there in a puddle of digested human flesh, gagging and trying to figure out what the fuck just happened to me.

"Get up!"

I jumped to my feet after I chanced upon the keys to freedom. I peeled globs of flesh off my shirt and pressed the panic button on the key remote. Just ahead, maybe a hundred feet was the sweetest sound ever known to man; the loud, obnoxious honk of a panicking car alarm. I followed the sound to the best of my ability, Earnest helping me along the way. His huffing and puffing made me more desperate to get into that car, and my feet were beginning to fail me.

It was death at the door, knocking with a skeletal hand and beckoning me into his arms. I wanted to go, but I had too many things I had to make up for. Brian, the dying man in front of the elevator, that little girl. And I couldn't let that bastard Earnest live to see another day after leaving his wife like that.

Earnest snatched the keys from me and opened the passenger side. He shoved me in as best as he could and commanded me to move. I obeyed, and that energy just left me. I collapsed in the passenger seat, and as Earnest opened the door on the driver side, I grabbed the keys from him as quickly as I could.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he roared at me.

I swiveled around, knowing that he would be too fat to crawl over and get them back. I slapped him away, and he jumped out, slamming the door behind him. The first thing I did was lock the door, and I opened the sun roof.

"What are you doing?" Earnest yelled at me.

I pushed my way out the sun roof and cupped my hands over my mouth. Before doing the unthinkable, I glared at that fat bastard and grinned. "I'm exacting your wife's revenge for her."

Earnest paled, and I could see that he had urinated. I don't know if it was the strain on his body, or the fact that he knew he was going to die right now that made him react the way he did. But, I didn't care. Fucker deserved to die.

"Hey!" I shouted. There was a crash, then silence. They were listening, as I was sure there was more than one by now. "This bastard deserves the most horrifying death you could possibly give him. I don't know if you can understand me—"

Earnest growled in fear. "Don't!"

I ignored him. "But if you can, you can have him!"

I wormed my way back into the car and shut the sun roof. I started the engine, and it roared to life, despite the constant thumping of Earnest's fists on the side. I think he thought that he would be able to break the glass in an attempt to take me down with him. But, I couldn't let that happen.

I sped away, my humanity cringing inside as I saw Earnest get eaten by those creatures. They must have understood me. There was no way that they couldn't. Not if they were eating him just like I asked. That dark tunnel, the one I had been so afraid of had swallowed me and spit me back out, and I was met with dozens of police cars and ambulances. I screeched to a halt, and fell out of the car.

It didn't surprise me that aide came rushing. I felt so light headed, and I finally succumbed to that darkness that had been hounding me for the better part of three years. It was unfortunate that it needed to be shoved down my throat the way it had, and I cursed God for playing such a mean and unforgiving game with my life, but if I had learned one thing from all of this, it was just one simple truth.

This was my story…and you're not part of it.

_The stock markets tumbled, yet again, as the financial crunch is taking its toll. The DOW Jones dropped nearly one thousand points, making it one of the steepest drops this year. Many banks have closed due to this unforeseen tragedy on Wall Street and the President of the United States will be holding a press conference later today…_

…_Raging fires in the State of California has halted most of the vacationers statewide, and has locked the electricity grids, causing nearly forty thousand air conditioning units to fail, and with rising temperatures, this does not look good for cities like San Diego and Los Angeles. Local electric companies are scrambling to fix the downed power lines, but the exponential increase in the price of electricity has many of them staggering to keep up…_

…_The Senate was startled to find that Senator Michael Ernie Mouse has decided to formally step down from his seat as Senator of the State of New York. Senator Mouse has agreed to finish out his term, but come later this year, the campaigns will be more determined than ever to claim that coveted Senator Seat…_

_A massacre at the Steamtown Mall in Scranton, Pennsylvania has police baffled. Early today, a team of specialized serial killers entered the mall, and devastated the entire building, leaving countless dead and dozens wounded. Police are not yet sure what could have possibly caused this unimaginable amount of destruction, but they suspect that it may be a retaliation towards the fall of the Heartless Gang not that long ago…_

…_Fair Financing is holding a memorial service to those who lost their lives in the Steamtown Massacre. The CEO, Julian Fair invites anyone and everyone to stand in silence to remember the lives lost. The memorial service is scheduled to happen later this week and it is a free event…_

…_That's all for tonight's news, please join us next time…_

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><p><strong>So...yeah, I have to go work on my other stories, which sadly are suffering the same fate.<strong>

**Has a nice day. :D**

**This one is only from me because it's DeadShut's present.  
><strong>


	2. The Mark of a Mature Man

**Hey, all! DeadShut here with chapter two. It's not as long as chapter one, but screw it; just enjoy. **

**Sora, Riku, and Kairi are all back, but "better than ever" would be an overstatement. Meanwhile, a new set of colorful psychopaths and enemies are conspiring the worst plans they can dream up. How can our heroes deal with this?**

**As for the delay, I'm sorry. These chapters are gonna be delayed a lot, for both Hajikurazaki and I are working on something. Something**_** big**_**. **

**Enjoy!**

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><p>The yellow school bus dropped Sora off a block away from his apartment, much like it did every day for the past three weeks he had been attending Coolidge High. Relief always came over him as he hopped off the bus, away from the strangers he had ridden it with, and walked over dry leaves of red and orange hues that lay on the sidewalk. Behind him, as he walked with his head down and his backpack strung over his shoulder casually, parents greeted their children with hugs, kisses, and warm smiles.<p>

That was so familiar to Sora, yet also so alien. After a month of having his parents killed, he had a hard time looking at other kids rushing to their own, no matter how old. Many kids his age didn't want anything to do with their parents, and for that Sora scorned them; they would not be so rebellious if they had gone what he had gone through.

His nose started to burn and tears sprang in the corners of his eyes. Cursing to himself, he wiped them away; he did not want to be seen crying, by anyone.

Many times he wondered if his parents would have wanted him to grieve for them. He wasn't exactly sure. They never really talked about it. Although he had been somewhat independent in his teenaged years, he was still pretty close to his parents. But they seldom talked about tragedy. Sora had been raised to be a kind and caring person, like his parents were before him. His father had been a website developer for a lawn mower company and his mother had worked as the CEO of a small-town radio program. Both ended up wealthy individually, and a lot of that money had been donated to various charities. It was that wealth that bought them an innocent vacation from Maine to Manhattan, and ultimately to their deaths.

Sighing for what felt like the millionth time since this depressing September began, Sora walked into his apartment building. It wasn't a pisspoor-conditioned complex, but it certainly was no Grand Hotel, either. The people there were nice, and Sora did enjoy the name of the building: _Il Rifugio_; "The Refuge". Sora walked up the stairwell to the third floor, and went down the hall to the fifth apartment on the right. Using his key, he walked in to the smell of burning cheese.

The apartment wasn't very big. Only two bedrooms and one bathroom, with a small kitchen that was indistinguishable from the dining room. The living room had the most space, where there was a medium-sized TV playing some sitcom. In the kitchen, however, was a tall and good-looking youth who turned at the sound of someone entering.

"_Il mio amico_!" yelled Riku happily from the kitchen. He was wearing a tomato sauce-stained apron and a smile so bright that it would make most young ladies his age blush. "_Entrare, entrare!_"

"Italian for dinner?" asked Sora, smiling, as he placed his backpack on the couch.

"Ah, _mio amico,_ you're a genius. What gave it away?"

"It was either the smell or your bad Italian."

"You break my heart sometimes, O'Reilly."

"What makes you so chipper today?"

"Look at the newspaper," said Riku, gleefully pointing down at the kitchen table behind him.

Sora walked over and read the headline: "THE 'D.C. AVENGERS' STRIKE AGAIN". Underneath was a very large picture, taken from a security camera, of two people in masks wielding Keyblades taking down a couple of robbers in a liquor store.

"Ah, Jesus," groaned Sora. "I knew we would've been seen."

"It's all good, though. They praise us in that article. They've called you 'Blue' and me 'Red'. Because of the color of the ski masks we used. Isn't that hilarious?"

"I guess. 'D.C Avengers', though?" Sora worried. "That's not really the kind of life I wanna lead, here."

"Pffft."

"Mick bought us this apartment to _relax_ ourselves, remember? In case you forgot, I was shot in the shoulder about a month ago. Oh, plus, I saw a man fall out of a building, another onto a tomahawk, battled two weapon-wielding psychopaths, and barely survived an exploding building."

"You'll have a lot to tell your redhaired grandkids."

Sora pursed his lips and looked down at the paper in embarrassment. "Yeah, I dunno about that."

"What do you mean?"

"Things haven't been goin' so well."

When Sora and Kairi admitted to Riku about their relationship, they had expected an explosion from their friend. However, Riku merely congratulated them enthusiastically, saying that this brought the three of them even closer together than before.

"Why's that?" Riku turned back to his slightly-ruined lasagna and began to slice it into squares.

"I dunno. Ever since that Zexion-dude kissed her, things are just awkward."

"Are they awkward because they're awkward, or are they awkward because you're making them awkward?"

"I don't know anymore. I mean, when she kissed him I was jealous. It kind of hit me right then that I hardly know her."

"You came into this movie in the middle, yeah," Riku agreed. "You want salad?"

"Yeah, please. But, when we were together, something felt _right_. Like some universal thing clicked. But…that Zexion said he _loved_ her. Did he feel that click, too?"

"If he did, it wasn't the same kind of click."

"Why's that?"

"Because it wasn't mutual," said Riku. He placed a plate of lasagna and a bowl of salad in front of Sora. "So how was school today?"

"Oh, fuck you," laughed Sora.

"What?"

"We go from talking about things that matter to…"

"School matters, Sora," said Riku seriously. "_I_ never got a proper education. You should be lucky Mick is paying for you to get one."

"Yeah, yeah…it's just weird, though."

"In what way?"

"I mean…when I started working with you guys, I figured that was all that mattered. I thought we were doing things beyond going to school every day. I thought it was all leading up to either a full-out battle with the Organization, or our deaths."

Riku paused for a moment to take a bite of his cooking. Then, through his food and a bit of a grimace, he asked Sora: "What makes you think that it's not?"

A bit stunned, Sora elaborated. "Well, we're not doing anything against the Organization now, are we? No, we're not."

"Sora, let me tell you, man…there are a _lot_ more bad people in the world besides the Organization."

"_They killed my fucking mom and dad!_"

Riku's eyebrows raised as he looked at the fuming Sora. Sora was dimly aware that his fists were clenched and shaking on the table, but was fully aware that he was staring daggers into his friend.

Then, Riku said calmly, "Sora you listen to me right now and you listen good. You aren't the only Abandoned Boy out there, you hear? I never had parents. Ever in my entire life. You should consider yourself lucky that you had _any_ good times with your parents. I would happily switch places with you."

"You've never had to feel the pain of losing them."

"You think I've never felt that pain, that heartbreak?" asked Riku harshly. He pointed to the coffee table, where a beautiful wedding ring had sat since they moved here. "I know what it's like to feel abandoned by those you care about. But I find family in what I have now. You. Kairi. Mick, Don, and Goof'. You're a part of this family, too."

Sniffing, Sora said, "I…I know. I'm sorry, man. Sometimes I forget."

"It's all good, buddy. Eat your damn lasagna already."

Sora did so, ravenously. He was too nervous to eat at school, so he was always starving by the time he got home. When he was done with the lasagna, he moved onto the salad and shoveled that down as well.

"Worked up an appetite there, huh?"

"Dude, school sucks," said Sora gravely. "I was never the new kid before, but I've found they typically get avoided."

"No new friends?" asked Riku jokingly.

"Nah. Well, I dunno. There's Belle Bright."

"Are you shitting me? Bright, did you just say?"

"Yeah, why?"

"At the bar I work at…her sister sometimes drops by. Does she have brown hair and brown eyes?"

"Yeah, Belle's eyes are unreal. They're so dark and pretty. But, anyway, she's a nice girl. She recommended a bunch of books for me…"

Riku snorted, "I didn't know you were much of a reader."

"I'm not. But she is, and it was still a nice gesture. So I guess Belle is my only…friendly acquaintance in school, really.

"But screw school, Riku. It's Friday night…what are we doing?"

"You're not gonna see Kairi?"

"Uhhh, I don't think so. She hasn't texted me in long while. We hardly talked at all this week. So I guess I'm free."

"Okay," said Riku happily. "Maybe we can find a party to go to or something and get laid."

"I'm not gonna cheat on Kairi," said Sora flatly.

"I was talking about _me_."

"Oh go to Hell. Where are we gonna find a party, anyways? We don't have any friends, Riku."  
>"Uhh, don't I know a couple people in D.C.?"<br>"You _used_ to."

"Terra?"

"Dead."

"Leon?"

"Dead."

"Ven?"

"Dead."

"Cloud!" shouted Riku. "He's close! Right down the road. I had almost forgotten."

"Cloud? Cloud isn't gonna know where a party is, Riku. He's getting married in a week."

Sora had been reunited with Cloud and Namine after his battle with Marluxia in the Grand Hotel. Sora instantly took a liking to the couple now that they actually _were_ a couple, and it was hard to mistake the two for the people they had been under Terra's employ. However, as Riku and Mick revealed to him later, Terra had actually been under Aqua's employ. Riku had also proposed to Aqua, but was turned down. Cloud was there for him. It was funny to Sora; out of all the criminals he had met since July, he did not expect to be befriend _Cloud_, who had seemed so minor and unimportant when he had first met him. However, Riku and Sora had gone to Cloud's house for dinner a couple of times, and they all shared many laughs and told each other their stories. It would not have been such a close relationship had Mick not trusted the man; apparently, it was Mick who had freed Cloud and Namine from their positions. It didn't matter either way to Sora. He was just happy to have another addition to this strange, strange "family" he had been brought into.

Riku looked positively downtrodden. "Well, I can't take you to Club Rennie's without a fake ID. Only I have one."

"You can go ahead and go without me. You work better without me pretending to be your wingman anyway."

"Okay." Riku stood up and grabbed his car keys from the coffee table. "You sure you don't wanna come?"

"Pretty sure, yeah."

"I'll bring you a couple of drinks."

"Now _that's_ responsible parenting."

Riku laughed. "What would you like?"

"Just a couple cans of Heisenberg. Nothing special."

"Gotcha. See ya', man."

"Later, skater."

Sora watched Riku go, amused at this last exchange. He knew Riku drank alcohol, but it took a bit of peer pressure and a realization that he had been traumatized too many times in his life to get Sora himself to start drinking. He seldom got drunk; only a little tipsy here and there. Sometimes he would feel guilty about it, but he was aware that underage drinking was a common thing. Riku, however, knew no boundaries these days; he drank until he was vomiting in the toilet.

Sora suspected he was depressed about Aqua rejecting his marriage proposal. That kind of thing really _could_ ruin someone.

_Just look at Zexion…_

Sora shuddered. Remembering the incident with Zexion and Kairi in the alleyway always brought a chill up his spine, which would then cool down with a burning jealousy and resentment. It also brought a pure hatred for Zeke Fender, who had screamed at them his new, Organization-given name. Many times, Sora felt the desperate need to track down that cold-hearted man and use the Keyblade to chop him to bits. How dare Fender intrude on Sora's relationship? How dare he stain their love with his existence?

But these thoughts would always precede a wave of guilt and worry. What if Zeke _truly_ loved Kairi, and Sora was less important in her mind? What if Kairi truly loved the intellectual back, and was merely lying in the alleyway to avoid hurting Sora's feelings?

Sora groaned and flopped onto the couch, his head full of worries.

Why, oh why, couldn't Zexion just move on? Why couldn't he just love someone else instead of Kairi? Why must his love be undying, something Sora himself could not guarantee?

A quote popped into Sora's head, something he read on the internet when he was moping about this one lonely night.  
>The quote he had read was: "The mark of a mature man is a certain scar he bears; the memory of a perfect woman never won, or of a once true-love forever lost. However much he may love you, he is only here because she is not."<p>

Was that what Zexion had done?

Was it?

If thoughts of Kairi had driven the man mad, Sora could resonate with Zexion; all this thinking was driving _him _crazy as well. Which is why he sometimes craved a drink once in a while.

He looked at his cell phone. No new messages. No surprises there.

_Maybe I should text her._

_ Stupid idea. Maybe she wants to be away from you for a while._

_ That's bullshit. We're going out, aren't we?_

_ Oh yeah? When was your last date? When was the last time you said "I love you"? _

_ The Hotel. _

_ Yeah. Right before Fender said anything. _

"Love stinks," sang Sora softly. "Yeah, yeah…"

After a while, on the couch, he silently fell asleep.

* * *

><p>"Hello, Mr. Dawson. I am calling on behalf of Edward Truman, who will be running for the vacant position in the U.S. Senate to represent the state of New York. Do you have a moment to spare? You do? Oh, good. First and foremost…you are a resident of Maryland, are you not? Okay, good, I thought so. Now, as you may know, two months ago the enigmatic group of Internet-based gangsters called the Heartless launched an attack on Washington D.C., destroying the Washington Monument. As a precaution, the U.S. government decided to shut down the majority of Internet connections nationwide, causing at first a global panic. However, the Heartless' leader, Dante 'Diz' Shell, was publicly executed at an airport in Miami, which locals watched in horror…what was that? Who killed Mr. Shell? I do believe it was a competing terrorist by the name of…hang on a second…Kirk Manson. He was the leader of this group of three terrorists, and wanted badly to kill Shell to claim the bounty on his head. They were, in turn, killed off by former-Senator Mouse's agents. Due to the violence he had been a part of, Senator Mouse resigned from his position, and gave a few recommendations to fill his seat in the Senate, one of the few being Mr. Truman, Democrat and former governor of New York. His son is now the new District Attorney in Manhattan, after the assassination of Eddie Gargan.<p>

"Mr. Dawson, these are dark times, indeed. However, Mr. Truman has made it his goal to do his best to improve our situation, and in our desperate time of need he believes he will come to the rescue. Please, Mr. Dawson, can Mr. Dawson count on your vote in the upcoming elections? Remember: there is no truer man than Truman.

"You will? Oh, thank you, Mr. Dawson. Please, have a nice day, and remember…keep optimistic."  
><em>Click<em>.

Dialtone.

Kairi hung up the phone, sighed, and left her small cubicle to grab herself a coffee from the break room. Mr. Truman had bought this office building for his campaigners. At first, Kairi thought the job would be incredibly interesting, but she was disappointed to find that, at first, her job was nothing more than a telemarketer. She still did telemarketing nowadays, but as of late she had become Truman's official secretary, which involved running around trying to find the guy in order to tell him the whole host of news she would receive in between his absences.

She arrived in the break room to find a man in a blue suit and red tie, fixing himself a sandwich.

"Oh, thank God," she said. "Mr. Truman, I've been looking all over for you."

Truman was a handsome man, and attracted many of the women around the office and around town. However, those good looks had struck a fear in some, as charm seldom preceded hard work.

The politician smiled and said, "What news, Kairi?"

"Uh, like a _hundred_ pieces of news, sir. Should I start with the 'Really Friggin' Important'-stuff, or the 'Mildly Friggin' Important'-stuff?"

Through a bite of cheese and ham, Truman said, "Go ahead and start with the Really Friggin' Important Stuff, Miss O'Cooper."

"Okay, well, first of all, Trudy and those in her branch found that a bunch of posters have been ripped down. We're not sure who did it, but…"

"Call a snoop or something, please."

"Gotcha. Mmm, next…apparently, the mayor of your hometown wants to celebrate the elections with a Halloween party in your penthouse, and I wasn't exactly sure who to…"

"Oh, a party? Uh, get Jack. He's the best party-planner around."

"Sir, we haven't heard from Mr. Skellington in a couple of weeks now. Remember? He didn't plan that Patriot Party of yours, and you were fuming mad…"

"Oh, right. Well, I'll send someone over to Jack's later, make a couple calls…is that it?"

"No, there's one other thing."

"What might that be?"

"One of your funders."

Truman raised his eyebrows.

Kairi pressed, "That Otto Oogie fellow. There's been a new police development with him; apparently, some cops are suspicious about his flow of income."

"Suspicious? Why?"

"Because, based on the amount Oogie is raking in, which is excessive, it seems like he has multiple sources of income from an unknown origin."

"So?"

"So that's _bad_, sir. Why wouldn't Oogie want to let people know about his business? Isn't that how a business is run - through advertising? How does someone acquire…" She went through some paperwork. "…three hundred thousand dollars without any apparent source? Money doesn't just come from nothing."

"How much is Otto donating to the campaigns?"

"A couple million dollars, but…"

"Then there is absolutely _nothing_ to worry about."

Truman patted Kairi on the shoulder, gave a soppy smile, and went for the door.

"Sir," said Kairi urgently. "I don't think it would be wise to be accepting donations from a man who might be a criminal. It'd look bad in the public eye…"

"Who said what he's doing is criminal?" asked Truman loudly. "Just because _you_, a fucking secretary, are unaware of some sources of his income, you assume it's criminal? This is mindless paranoid bullshit, Kairi, and I won't have it!"

Tears springing to her eyes, Kairi muttered, "Okay, sir. I'm sorry, sir."

Truman nodded, lips pursed. Then, he said, "Listen, honey. Don't act so downtrodden, okay? I'm sorry."

Kairi said nothing.

"Are you mad?"

Kairi said nothing.

"Yeah, you are. I'm sorry, Kairi. I have a lot on my mind and I took it out on you. I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you, soon. Okay? I need to run some business now. Alright?"

"A-alright."

"Alright, sweetie. Thank you."

* * *

><p>Cheryl had been on a fabulous date this evening.<p>

She had met the rather handsome (albeit bearish) man on an online dating website. His profile said he was an entrepreneur with a good sense of humor, and that had been no lie. He took her out to one of the most beautiful restaurants she had ever seen, and fed her some of the most delicious meals she had ever eaten. He had ordered some very expensive French champagne, and they toasted the dating service. He then bought a wrapped bottle of the same champagne for her as a present, much to her delight. All this had very much turned her on, so she shyly agreed when he asked her if she wanted to come home with him and "relax" at his house. Yeah, Cheryl thought, there would be relaxing…if "relaxing" meant an all-night sex-spree. For what this man had done for her tonight, he deserved it.

Right now he was pumping gas into the car at the gas station. She looked at herself in her pocket mirror, and applied a fresh layer of lipstick; she wanted her lips to look plush, kissable, and sexy for him when they inevitably got into bed with one another. This was actually a first for her; she rarely met a man who treated her like such royalty for an entire night. Usually, men would just talk about how pretty she was. Cheryl, after breaking up with these men, usually told them that actions speak louder than words. And _all_ this man did was act. It was like he was from a fairy tale.

He got back into the car and smiled at her.

"Well," said Otto Oogie, grinning broadly. "Aren't you sexy right now, miss. I got you this." He pulled out of his pocket a Reese's peanut butter cup.

"My favorite!" she squealed, taking it. "You remembered that from our chat?"

"Mhmm. You fascinate me. I remember almost every little detail about you. Shall we go?"

"Yes, please," she said, smiling. "And hurry."

Otto laughed. "Demanding, now, aren't we?"

"You can say I have it bad for you."

Otto laughed again as he drove out of the gas station. For a couple of minutes they drove in silence, until Cheryl noticed that they were taking a couple of back roads she had never been on before; a coworker had once informed her that only abandoned factories were on such roads.

"Otto?"

"Yes?"

"Where are we?"

"I really can't wait 'till I get home. Can we please…here?"

She shuddered with longing. "God, yes."

"Lean your chair back. Unbuckle your seatbelt."

"Yes, Otto…"

She did, and then a second later his burly form was on top of her. His weight turned her on even more so, and that pressure was pleasurable. He took off her dress for her, then slowly unstrapped her bra, then pulled her panties off with his teeth.

"Hang on a sec," he whispered into her ear. "I have to take a piss."

She laughed and nodded as he left the car and into the darkness around them.

_God, I'm so horny_, she thought, surprised. _It's like he's too good to be true_.

The car door opened again.

"You ready yet?" she asked in what she hoped was a sexy voice, but turned to see that the person entering the car was not Otto, but another, muscular man. She was then pulled, screaming, out of the car and onto the pavement.

"What'd I tell you?" she heard Otto's voice say from somewhere close. "A fine ass, average tits, and a clearly fuck-able pussy. Pay up."

The man holding her replied in a thick Russian accent that was heavy with disappointment, "You promised us a lot more than that. This is Cheryl Packer?"

"Yes. So?"

"Not Rachel Teague? Where is that one? My boss told you he had a thing for Teague. He thought she would make much money."

"I'm afraid Teague's run into a rather gruesome fate."

Silence for a moment. Then, the Russian spoke, "We've lost too much money because of you and your sick fetishes."

"And yet you're all richer beyond your wildest dreams," replied Otto disdainfully. "What I do in the privacy of my home has nothing to do with you or your boss. Shall we go inside?"

"Why?"

"I own more than half of this little factory of your boss', and I'm afraid that when I want to come in, there are to be no questions asked."

"Fine." The Russian picked Cheryl up by the hair, and she cried in alarm as she felt very sticky tape cover her mouth and tied her wrists together. "Walk," the Russian commanded, and she did so.

After getting a good look around, she realized they were walking towards a dilapidated factory that, although looked very ramshackle, seemed to be running. It was not long before they were inside, where she witnessed the utmost of horrors. Inside this high-ceilinged plant were workers dressed in casual wear, men in business wear, and naked women walking around serving the former two categories like some twisted, sexual waitresses.

Frightened, Cheryl turned to Otto and saw with a mixture of surprise and fear that her date was now wearing what appeared to be a burlap sack mask over his face. The pale, green eyes beneath the bizarre mask studied her for a moment.

Then, Otto said, "Take her down to the cages. This fucking princess needs to spend maybe a year or two appealing to our BDSM-customers, if she even lives that long to do so."

The Russian nodded, and Otto watched as he carried Cheryl, screaming underneath the tape, away. Then, Otto turned to see a familiar face.

"Ah, Ethan!" cried Otto.

Truman embraced the big man, and said, "You still wear that mask, Otto?"

"When conducting this kind of business, yes. I don't need any common man recognizing me from the papers. You've actually risked me quite a lot for coming here tonight, but it's nice to have you see my recent investment."

"I must say, Otto, this new market isn't anything like you. I always figured you kept the women you seduced for yourself."

"I haven't been able to find any delicious ones yet."

Truman laughed. "Your _hobby_ amuses me, Otto."

"Me as well, sir."

"Do you eat the girls raw?" wondered Truman. "Or do you cook them?"

"Typically cook 'em."

"What do breasts taste like when cooked?"

"Come over one night and find out. The art of seduction is too easy. I've had maybe five meals in the past month alone, with enough to give to this operation, which I've bought sixty-three percent of."

"From who?"

"Can't say, Ethan. I'm sorry. I trust you and all, but this business is doing wonders for me, and I can't jeopardize it at all."

"I understand. And what if someone stumbles upon an active factory selling women in cages as sexual slaves and pictures of child pornography, Otto?"

"It's not child pornography, at least not under the court of law. How do you think mothers and fathers take pictures of their baby's bottoms and keep them in their wallets? As long as nothing too extreme is shown, it isn't illegal. We're giving the perverted fucks just enough."

"And the sex slaves?"

"They spend most of their day-to-day lives drugged so they can't speak to us. When we interact with one another with the slaves in front of us, we wear masks."

"And you chose to make a mask out of a burlap sack?"

"I find it frightening, as do the women. My fetishes aren't important. We should be discussing business. What brings you here tonight?"

"My personal assistant got a good look at your generous donations."

"Ah…female?"

"Yep. She's concerned about you, and apparently the cops have a watchful eye on you, Otto."

"What do you want me to do with her?"

"You own sixty-three percent of these men, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Perhaps send a couple of them to her house tomorrow night to bring her here."

"You don't want me to kill her?"

"No, and I also do not want her ending up like Miss Teague, so I'm asking you as a friend to keep your hands off of her. Drug her up and she'll make a fine slave as soon as possible. However, I want a personal discount, since I'm leading her to you."

"You wish to lead me to a product and then you want a discount to have her? Why not drug her up yourself and keep her as a slave?"

"Too much suspicion. Plus, you're the professional in these matters. Perhaps when I'm done with her I'll let you have her. She's deliciously creamy-white."

"I do enjoy girls like that. I'm surprised you haven't seduced her yourself yet, sir."

"Ah, as am I," said Truman, frowning. "But she's very young. Not even twenty-one yet."

"The younger the fresher."

"For a meal, perhaps, but teenagers are too questioning these days. Are they included in your distributing pornography?"

"On occasion. To those with that kind of fetish, merely tricking a girl that age into bed is more simplistic than buying pictures of her naked. However, sometimes you'll get a customer wanting to have pictures of the girl dead."

Truman laughed. "People have such kinky secrets. Since I've met you, I haven't been able to look at a stranger the same way without wondering how he or she pleasures herself in the comforts of his or her home."

"Must make political debates more interesting."

"It certainly does."

"What shall I get in return for bringing the girl here?"

Truman smiled. "Whatever you want."

Otto returned the smile from under his mask, then turned to watch his new "company" work.

* * *

><p>"Refill."<p>

The bartender eyed Hayner warily, but nevertheless gave him another shot. Hayner licked his lips as he was poured another small glass of Seagrams vodka, then took it and threw it back. A small yet pleasant buzz began to ring in the back of his head, and he was dimly aware that this was going to be another night, alone, shitfaced, here at the Grape in SoHo. The Grape was a private little bar that was a reputed "gay bar"; it was the only tavern in Manhattan in which Hayner truly felt comfortable.

"Refill."

He lifted his new shot of Seagrams and said, "To lost love and loneliness."

"Amen," replied the barkeep thickly.

Isa hadn't picked up his cell phone in almost a month. Hayner truly wished to speak with his beloved, but fate was truly not on his side.

_He loves that whore,_ Hayner thought bitterly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. _Aqua. She doesn't even deserve him! What has she done that makes him so attracted to her? What does she _have_?_

Power. That was what. Regardless of what Hayner wanted personally and emotionally, both he and Isa were still gangsters. They had one thing in common with every other damned gangster on the planet: a shared megalomania. A need for a rank and a position over others. Money, sex, cars, parties, guns. A life of excitement and self-worth.

Well, no. That latter part wasn't true when you were in a gang. When you were in a gang, you were _in_ a gang. Every step you took was for the progression of that gang. Hayner was an accountant for Aqua, yes, but that meant he was _in_ her empire, and that his entire livelihood depended on her.

_Don't. You'll only hurt yourself._

Isa had been right. Falling this deep in love with someone was certainly a type of self-mutilation.

_What the hell. He's not your boyfriend._

Yes. But the flirting, the kissing…it made Hayner feel so alive. So…so…

"Mind if I sit here?"

Hayner turned and his jaw dropped. Standing before him was a dark-haired, dark-eyed, beautiful man wearing a black pea coat and red scarf. The man had a natural, devilish smirk on top of a silly-looking patch of beard that nested on his chin.

Nervous, Hayner looked down and said, "Uh…no, go ahead."

The man smiled and took a seat next to Hayner, who was already feeling a hot blush creep up his face.

"Come here often?" asked the stranger.

"Lately, yes." _Way to look desperate,_ he thought.

"Hm. This is my first time here. I heard it's a nice place to get away…get drunk…get fucked…"

"This isn't a whore's club," said Hayner firmly, still not looking at the man.

"Fucking is never synonymous with whoring. We all need sex. That's actually why I'm here. To get fucked. Know anyone who might be interested?"

"You'd be surprised…"

"Huh?"

"Nevermind. Depends on your taste in…people, I guess."

"I'd prefer someone like you. You're a fucking cutie."

Hayner blushed harder and finally turned to the man. He felt an erection grow in his pants and hoped to God that the man did not see it…

But saw it the man did, and instead of looking away embarrassed, he boldly grabbed at it. Hayner moaned with longing.

"Perhaps we should go," the stranger whispered.

"Lead the way, babe…" Hayner said, standing up.

The stranger smiled gleefully, and also stood up.

The Grape was a bar in an alleyway, so when the two exited together they walked into darkness.

"My place is a couple blocks away…" Hayner began.

"No," said the man instantly. "Here."

"Here?"

"Here."

The stranger took Hayner's hand and led him further into the dark alleyway. Hayner allowed himself to be dragged, suddenly even _more_ turned-on than he was before.

However, once the man let go and turned around, Hayner witnessed the impossible. Before his eyes, with the only light around shining from the streets into the alley, the stranger who had so seductively lured him out here began to _change_. Some strange, disgusting-looking material began to cover the man completely, turning him into some sort of monster. Hayner turned to run, but the creature held him back by his collar.

"Don't run," the thing spoke, and Hayner's blood chilled at the sound; it was almost like two voices, the voice of the man and a darker, raspier one, speaking in unison. He struggled in the thing's grip.

"Let me go!" Hayner screamed.

"If you scream like that again, I'll kill you," spoke the creature. "Now, I've got a couple questions. First and foremost; you work for Someone, don't you?"

Hayner spat at the question.

A second later the creature took its claws and tore the skin on Hayner's shoulder. Hayner hissed in pain.

"Do you work for Someone?" persisted the thing.

"Yes."

"Good. I take it you'll know where the runner, Riku Hannon, is." As Hayner opened his mouth, the monster added hastily: "Of course, if you lie to me, I shall kill everyone you hold dear…or, perhaps…the _one_ you hold dear…"

"I don't know what the fuck you are talking about," said Hayner, suddenly fearful.

"Lawrence, Hayner. I mean Lawrence. The one I've watched you call about twenty times for the week I've been stalking you."

"You couldn't kill Isa," said Hayner firmly. "Ever. Not even in your dreams."

That's fine if you think so, but when I tear out his eyes and make you eat them, I better not hear any crying."

Hayner winced.

"I'll kill him as easily as I lured you out here."

"If you lay one finger on Isa…"

"You'll do what, exactly? Have Angelina Godfrey place a hit on me? I'm a phantom, 'homeboy'. I don't exist. I will _kill_ this Isa if you do not speak now! Where is Riku Hannon?"

"D.C.!" wailed Hayner. "He's in D.C.!"

"I take it the others are with him?"

"W-what others?"

"Sora O'Reilly, Kairi O'Cooper…"

"I don't know who they are."

"No time left for lies, Hayner."

"I'm not lying to you! I swear!"

"To what? God?" The monster laughed mockingly.

"No…I swear in Isa's name I have no idea who you're talking about. But Riku is in D.C. I'm sure of it. Please…"

"Fine," snarled the monstrosity. "But I shall be back for both you _and_ Isa if you have lied to me."

"I'm not…please…please don't kill him."

"We'll see."

The creature flung Hayner, hard, into a couple of nearby trashcans. Hayner felt his face smack against the hard concrete of the building, then shuddered as pain throbbed in the middle of his face. Hayner moaned in pain as Felix Vanitas climbed away on the side of the building neighboring The Grape, laughing.

Blood gushing from his nose, Hayner pulled out his cell phone and called the man he loved for possibly the thousandth time since he had talked to him. This time, he left the message:

"Isa…I've been hurt…I think my nose is broken…please, watch out for strangers…"

He ended the call and blacked out.

* * *

><p><strong>Well, DeadShut is really setting us up for something grand, in't he?<strong>

**Unfortunately, I have no idea when the next chapter will be out, but I'm working on it diligently as always. I certainly hope you all stick around. It'll be worth it.**

**As for that "something big", it most certainly is, but we can't tell you. Hurr. Keeping secrets we be.**

**Has a nice day from the both of us. :D  
><strong>


	3. Money Speaks Over All

**Hello. Ohmygod you gais! you actually got a chapter in a decent amount of time. But don't count on this all the time. I actually wrote half of this a while ago, so yeah. *excuses***

**Enjoy and stuff. Heh...**

* * *

><p>It was such an illustrious event when powerful people would congregate in a single area for a short amount of time. Egos were stroked, bragging rights were claimed, and—more often than not—lives were changed. However, for the memorial event set up by Julian Fair for the hundreds of people killed in Scranton, Pennsylvania, it was more of a power play. A way to bring the most powerful people in the world together so that he could negotiate, or set up a hostile takeover.<p>

After all, he was a businessman.

Therefore he had no worries about the upcoming event. There would be sadness, yes. Fear would drive people there in spades, as would concern. But Julian Fair, the sneaky and arrogant bastard that he was, was only interested in drawing one particular person. After Aqua had so kindly destroyed any potential of a westward migration, he's been trying to lure her into his company again. He figured that he should pay her back for ruining such a lucrative opportunity, though death would be too kind to her.

No, he had to be more strategic. More cunning. And he knew that, more than anything, Aqua would want to stay in control of the situation. So far, she had succeeded. Zack had managed to block any attempts on her life, and he was wary around any strangers. He was a good son, just like Julian had wanted. However, it was becoming clearer that Zack was soon going to become a problem. Though what kind of monster would kill his own son?

"Julian?"

Julian had decided to stay in his office, which was seated happily above everything in New York City. It was a foggy day, and the grey slate clouds concealed the tops of the tallest buildings just enough to add a miserable mysteriousness to the city itself. Though Julian could still see his empire. Or what was left of it.

But, he had a very important discussion to have with some of his closest friends. His office had been rearranged by one of the best interior designers in the country, and was set up much like an underground poker ring. The red top if the card table was brand new, holstered from the finest materials, and the chairs were just as nice. It looked regal in a sense that it exuded an air of superiority, even though it was just a table.

Julian turned around, and his head lawyer was standing just on the other side of the room, looking over files, and pondering out loud. He was an older gentleman, just like Julian, but he was smart, and his wit could cut the air. He was worried though, that much could be seen.

Julian sighed and scratched the top of his head. His body ached, but he didn't say anything about it. "Why would you, of all people, be worried about this? You know I have the title of poker champion."

Julian's lawyer muttered under his breath. "Yes, but you are not going up against some poor idiot. This could turn out very badly if you get too cocky. Remember Vegas?" Julian grimaced. "You lost three thousand acres of tax-free land, four of your largest English housing complexes, and you almost handed over controlling interest in Fair's First."

Julian shrugged. "This will be different, Davis. I can feel it in my bones."

Davis frowned. "If you lose anything too important, I will no longer be able to work for you, you know this, right?"

Julian nodded. "But, I won't lose anything. In fact, I expect to gain very much, even if I may give up a couple of my amenities."

Davis growled at him. "You have got to leave that drug girl alone, Julian. She is messing with your head in the worst way. You need to take a step back and assess the situation."

Julian waved him off. "I'll be fine."

"Your portfolio is going to the dogs!"

"It's still good though."

"Julian, please." Davis closed his briefcase and placed it on Julian's desk after pouring himself a shot of whiskey. "You want one?"

Julian shook his head.

"Julian, we've been friends for a long time, right?"

"Yes," Julian answered. "Too many to count."

"And I've never tried to swindle you, or let you get hurt, right?"

"Get to the point, Davis," Julian said. "I'd expect he's almost here."

Davis frowned. "I think it's time for you to retire."

Julian spun around, his arrogant nature being washed away by a flood of anger. How dare Davis even _think_ about proposing such an idea. Was he an idiot? Did he wish to not have a job? Julian opened his mouth to roar some of the most creative threats he could muster on such short notice when the door of his office opened.

In came Rufus Shinra, the President and CEO of the Shinra Power and Electric Company. He was young. Barely into his twenties, yet he looked, dressed, and walked like he owned the world, because—in actuality—he did. Rufus was by far one of the wealthiest oil tycoons, but he was so much more than that.

He was a mortal god. He didn't have to do anything anybody else asked or expected from him. He could say whatever he wanted, do whatever he wanted, believe whatever he wanted, and there were hundreds of millions of people who would follow. To put it simply, he was invincible. And he had come to play a game of poker with Julian.

"Well, well, well," Rufus mused. His tone was commanding and condescending. To the average person, he sounded too sure of himself. "Julian Fair. It's nice to see you haven't changed a bit."

"President Shinra," Julian remarked snidely. "Last time I checked, you are not a friend of mine."

Rufus shrugged. "What can I say? I'm just as surprised as you are. I thought you hated my family, yet you wanted to play poker with my father? How hypocritical."

Julian tensed. "I invited your father for a reason. This is not a game for kids."

"Well, that's good," Rufus chuckled. "I wouldn't consider myself a goat of any kind. That was awfully rude for you to say that."

Julian narrowed his eyes and took a step forward. "Fine, then, would you like to participate in a game of high stakes poker?"

Rufus nodded, blond hair framing an angelic, but firm scowl. "I wouldn't mind. But poker is boring with only two people. I'm not in the business of boring. I hope you don't mind some company?"

Julian tried his best to smile kindly, though underneath was seething anger. Already, his plan wasn't flowing the way he had wanted. But, he was a businessman, so—just like every other businessman before him—he had to roll with it. Develop a new plan, a new strategy. He didn't enjoy his place on top by working hard. Hard work was for the lower class.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you that it's rude to invite people to someone else's party?"

Rufus smiled. "Yeah, but I never listened. He'll be here soon."

"So you invited him without even asking?"

"I'm sure you'll live."

Julian sat at the card table with Davis and waited patiently for Rufus to sit as well. Rufus decided against joining someone who he thought was lower than him and conversed with his own lawyer, though this man was polished and suave, unlike Davis.

Shortly afterwards, Julian's office door was opened again, and a tall man in his early thirties eased in. His demeanor was much different than that of Julian or Rufus. He was nervous. The filing of his mounting concerns was easily identifiable behind his dark eyes. He was a weasel at best, and a poor excuse for a gambler. He was broken and desperate.

Obviously lower middle class.

"Who is this?" Julian barked, jumping to his feet. "You brought some mangy commoner to play poker?"

The man halted and frowned. "Who are you calling mangy?"

Rufus laughed. "I'm sorry, Mason. Julian is a tightass sometimes."

Julian glared at Mason, who tried to not glare back. He seemed ready to fight, but something was restraining him.

Rufus sat down and patted the seat next to him. His lawyer sat promptly as well. Mason, who lacked a lawyer, or even a decent representative, sat down and folded his hands.

"You see," Rufus started. "Mason here knows a thing or two about statistics. I invited him for two main reasons, but let's play a game or two, yeah?"

Julian, against his better judgment, seated himself across from Rufus. Davis pulled out a deck of cards, handed it to Rufus's lawyer, and pulled out a stack of papers. After inspecting the deck for any signs of tampering, Rufus's lawyer placed the deck on the table, pulled out his own, thicker, stack of papers and pressed a button on his cell phone. A moment later, a sharply dressed woman walked in and stood at the table.

Davis slid a sheet of paper over to her and handed her a pen. "What is your name?" he asked.

"Francine Walters."

"Please, repeat after me, Francine." Davis held his right hand up, expecting Francine to do the same. When she did, he took on this lawful tone. Almost like what he was going to say was about to become contractual.

"I, Francine Walters, do solemnly swear that I, Francine Walters, is not, nor has ever been affiliated with Julian Fair of Fair Financing, Rufus Shinra of The Shinra Power and Electric Company, Mason Sephiroth, of Statics Analysis, or any of their associates, affiliates, and subsidiaries. I, Francine Walters, do also swear to the privacy of the aforementioned parties, and will not, under any circumstances, contractual or otherwise, divulge any information, including but not limited to birthdates, names, interests, or political standings, to any persons, living or dead, in any form, which includes but is not limited to, written word by hand or typed, spoken word through conversation, poetry, or any other means, or inferred meaning using words not associated with the actual topic. If I, Francine Walters, do break any of the terms or conditions of the contract, I, Francine Walters, will be required to be punished to the fullest extent of the law, as well as pay any damages due to defamation of character, or any other felonies that may also be charged by the aforementioned parties."

Francine frowned. "Uh, I agree."

Davis nodded. "Please sign your name here and initial here."

As soon as Davis shuffled the documentation away, Rufus raised an eyebrow. "That's awfully excessive, don't you think?"

Davis smirked. "Maybe, but it's necessary. If you were your father, you would've known that."

"But, I'm not my father."

Davis frowned. "Let's begin." He glanced at Mason. "What is it that you have to gamble with?"

Mason looked at Davis, and swallowed. "I have a small house. That's it."

Davis chuckled. "A small house? What, like, eight thousand square feet?"

"Uh, no," Mason said. "Slightly less than that."

Rufus laughed. "Don't be so critical, Julian's lawyer."

"My name is Davis."

"Davis, then," Rufus said, waving his hand. "I'll cover anything he loses."

"How charitable."

Julian blinked slowly. "Let's start then. I'll put up my ante. I just want a nice friendly game now. No cutting throats yet, okay?"

Rufus nodded and shrugged. "Yeah, okay, but you know I'd have to out bet you, right?"

Julian sucked in his cheek. "I'll offer…" He looked at Davis, who shuffled his papers and pulled one out, handing it to Julian. "Ah, a club chain in Miami, with a sister club here, in New York. Club Heartless. I'm sure you've heard of it."

Rufus smiled. "I've heard about it all right. I hear many people lost their lives there, yes?"

"That's all water under the bridge I'm afraid."

Rufus smiled. "Okay, I'll put up controlling interest in HertzPress. It's a publishing company in Europe. Very profitable. Accounts for my vacation money all year. Seventy-five percent."

"I've never been into reading much," Julian said.

"Well, I didn't take you for a clubber either, so we're even."

Rufus and Julian both looked at Mason. Mason looked down. He could feel their egos pushing up against him, and he hated that feeling so much. That feeling of inferiority. He wanted it so badly to go away. He wanted to be on their level, somehow, so he—at that moment—decided that he was going to win this game and take everything they were offering.

Thus was the beginning of his greed.

"I'll put up my house." He said. "I think that'll be a sufficient start."

Rufus thumped him on the back. "Good show. Let's see you win this. If you do, I'll tell you something really important."

"You treat him like he's your slave."

"More like a soldier."

Mason growled. He wasn't sure why he did at that moment. Maybe it was because Julian pointed out what he had been thinking for a very long time. That he was a slave. Sent to do Rufus's bidding because that son of a bitch would pay his bills every month and make up for his degenerative gambling habits. But, not anymore. It was time to use his unique skills.

Reading and predicting statistics was one of the only things Mason had been good at. He used his ability to buy and sell stocks during a time when the economy wasn't completely in the crapper. And he made the investing firm he worked for a lot of money. But, that "power" he had went to his head, and he would spend his time gambling his 401K straight into bankruptcy. Gambling and statistics, though similar in theory, were not that similar in reality. They were more like salt and pepper, complimenting each other perfectly, but were actually two separate things.

Francine dealt the cards. Neither of the men at the table said a word as they looked at their cards. Rufus smirked, and that small motion, Mason predicted, meant that he had a bad hand. For Rufus was so nonchalant, that if he had been dealt a bad hand, he would smile because he knew he wasn't losing too much this time around. Julian blinked. To Mason, this was a sign of a good hand.

He glanced at his own. All diamonds. A King, a Queen, a Jack—

He closed his eyes. This had to have been a dream. This was impossible. Too much of a good thing to be true. Was it? Could it be?

A royal flush.

His mind rocketed into formulas. Equating and deducing without even thinking. Rufus was out, that much was for sure. Julian looked like he was going to have a good hand. It was up to him. No words, no snide remarks, no threats or gloating. Julian laid his cards on the table. Rufus folded his hand in front of him, and Mason waited. Julian's hand. Three of a kind. A good hand, but when he laid his cards on the table, there was a noticeable increase in tension.

"Oh, dear," Rufus said with that same nonchalance. "It looks like Mason just became a very rich man."

Mason didn't smile. His shock was beyond that of anything he had ever felt. Literally, hundreds of millions of dollars had just fallen into his lap. He was richer than he had ever thought possible.

"You cheated!" Julian roared. "There is no way he could get a royal flush on the first go."

Rufus snickered. "That's funny that you accused me of cheating when you are the one who provided the deck. I'd say it was quite the contrary. Besides, now this game can get fun." He arched an eyebrow at Mason, who was still in shock from actually winning something. "What do you say? One more round? We can up the ante now."

Mason nodded. "You said you'd tell me something important if I won."

Rufus leaned back. "Yeah, but I wouldn't want to kill your winning streak."

"He only won one game, Rufus," Julian noted angrily. "Don't get cocky."

Again, Julian had to reformulate his plan. He had been expecting to be sitting with Rufus Shinra Senior. Not his little son who had way too much time and money on his hands. Nor had he been expecting said son to be this narrow-minded. Bringing a commoner like he was showing off some unique animal. Not to mention, this "animal" of his just won about forty million dollars a year. And a European publishing company. No doubt, one that also made a lot of money.

Rufus slid his cards across the table to Francine, who picked them up, as well as the others and began shuffling. She was professional, very poised and calm, even though she was surrounded by men who were throwing money around like the rest of the world wasn't suffering from economic decline.

"Okay, let me make an offer, Fair," Rufus said. "I think we should play a little higher up on the chain, don't you?"

Julian smiled. "What did you have in mind?"

"I'll bet CDSG if you bet Fair's First." Rufus blinked and turned to Mason. "CDSG is the California Division of Shinra Gas. It is located in central California, and currently makes twenty billion dollars a year. It only serves California. But, could you imagine what I've done with it?"

Julian grimaced. "I'm not giving up Fair's First."

"Oh, please, Julian," Rufus sneered. "You haven't done anything with that miserable little bank since 'Oh-two. I mean, I was still on the play ground when you cared about that tiny company. I wanted it then, I want it now."

"You just want to hoard it."

Rufus grinned. "I love collecting vintage stuff. It's right up my alley."

Davis leaned in close. "Don't do it, Julian. Believe me. That little shit is lying."

Julian's lips twitched. "Let me ask you something. Do you know who Someone is?"

Rufus paused in thought. "You mean that person who is supposedly behind all those drug related crimes? Yes, I suppose I know of them."

"What if I brought this person here? I think you'd find them most intriguing."

Rufus chuckled. "I doubt it. I'm not interested in drugs right at this moment. I haven't fallen that far."

"No, I think you'd like them." Julian smiled. "They are just like you. Arrogant, and a pain in my ass."

"Don't talk about me like that," Rufus retorted. "I have more money than you, Julian. I have more say."

"You also have a temper, which I fully intend to take advantage of." Julian answered calmly. "I want something, and I can't have it. Don't you think that puts me in a cross mood? I'm only trying to obtain something that's important to me. That's all."

Mason spoke softly. "Are we still going to play?"

Rufus stood up. "Shut up, Mason. Greedy fucking commoner."

Mason looked away.

Julian folded his hands. "I just want this person to suffer some kind of horrendous loss. I believe that you and I can work together for this short amount of time, just to weed them out."

"What are you proposing?" Rufus asked, grinning.

"A merger."

"Out of the question, Fair."

Julian stood as well, ignoring the desperate looks from Davis. "Think about it. I'm sure you have a non-important security company lying around in your portfolio. _Somewhere. _Something small enough so it can easily be absorbed by Fair Financing. Then, I'll give you your own army to play with until I can find who I'm looking for."

Rufus grinned wider. "That's an interesting proposal. But how are you going to manage such a thing without it looking like you set something up? It would look mighty suspicious to Uncle Sam."

"I have some dirt on a couple of Senators, and I have a team of lobbyists that would blow you away. Uncle Sam is not concerning me in the least."

"Speaking of uncles," Rufus mused with a faux innocent tone. "Mason, you have a brother, right?"

"Step-brother."

Rufus nodded. "Step-brother. Uh, Christopher Strife Senior?"

"Yeah, what about him?"

"He died recently." Rufus paused. "I thought you should know that. I also thought you should know that his son, Christopher Strife Junior, has yet to be found for the reading of the will. And that you have also been named as a co-beneficiary."

Mason's eye grew wide. "How do you know all this?"

"I don't like the Strifes." Rufus frowned. "And when I don't like the Strifes, I make it my mission to learn everything about them. It seems your step-brother amassed quite fortune during his life. But, if you and his son don't show up together, Uncle Sam is going to take thirty-five percent to start. And then they will take it all. I just thought I'd give you a heads up."

"Thank you?"

"Oh, and HertzPress is going into Chapter Eleven next month. You might want to sell your shares."

Mason gasped. "Motherfucker."

Rufus laughed. "It was my first try at a peaceful merger. It didn't go so well as you can see. Sorry about that." Rufus turned to Julian. "I'll talk to you later about your merger. I'll look into my portfolio, see what I can find. If I don't call you, I'm not interested."

Julian nodded. "I look forward to your call."

"Me, too."

As Rufus turned to leave, Mason jumped to his feet. He had been robbed without even getting the chance to defend himself. His hatred, which had become so strong in such a short period, was directed at Rufus.

"You swindled me."

"I did not," Rufus said. "If you had come prepared with a lawyer, he would have stopped you, because he would have known that HertzPress was going into Chapter Eleven. Everyone in Europe knows HertzPress is going into Chapter Eleven. It's not my fault that you are a stupid commoner. It's not my fault you don't know business. And it's not my fault that you suck."

Mason sucked in a breath.

"I would suggest," Rufus continued, "that you figure out a way to secure some of that money your step-brother made. The only way to do that would be to find his son. And to do that, you would need to work. I'd hop to it if I were you."

Mason clenched his teeth. "You motherfucker."

"Name calling gets you nowhere, Mason." Rufus smiled at Julian as he left. "Have a good day."

Julian sighed. "My goodness, the ego on that boy."

Davis stood up and filed his papers away. "I guess that means we're done here. Francine, you may leave. Mason, you may, too."

Francine bowed politely, gathered the deck and departed after Davis handed her a check. Mason, though reluctant, followed, and he was kicking himself the whole time. Rufus's lawyer had handed him the contract detailing his owner ship, as did Davis with Club Heartless, but it didn't feel as good to be handed such responsibility as it had when he had won it.

He now had to figure out how to keep it running, and Rufus was right about him not knowing business. Already it felt like a burden.

And now he needed to find his nephew.

Another pitfall.

Poor Mason.

* * *

><p>Cloud felt bad.<p>

Even as he sat in the beautiful lobby of one of the best Obstetricians in D.C.—compliments of Aqua's apology gift—he felt bad for revealing her whereabouts to Mick. Mick had assured him that it was the right thing to do, but now the burden of being a snitch weighed heavily on his heart. Namine sat beside him, hand firmly on the bulge that gave away her condition.

Cloud hadn't been expecting her to show so soon, but he figured that she was so small in stature, that it wouldn't have taken that long. A couple months did seem a little early to him. Or maybe he was just nervous. When a previous job had been working for a possessive and angry drug dealer, it wasn't unusual to jump at every suspicious sound or reach for a gun whenever a stranger spoke to him. He still had to break out of that nervous habit.

But he couldn't. All he could think about was that creature. That black liquid creature that his next door neighbor—Felix Vanitas—had transformed into before his very eyes. That fear still coursed through him, that need to protect. And it didn't help that he just could not seem to stay in a single place.

First he was Terra's slave in D.C., then he moved to Seaside Heights, where upon witnessing Felix's transformation, he fled with Namine to New York. However, because of his betrayal of Terra, Aqua was going to kill him, but instead he was commissioned to babysit Riku. And when Riku decided that he was going to move to Washington D.C., Cloud had to follow.

And he was getting married in a week.

And he was going to be a father.

"Cloud?" Namine asked. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Cloud breathed. "I'm just a little on edge. That's all."

"I can do this by myself, you know." Namine frowned slightly. "If you don't want to…"

"No," Cloud said firmly. "I can handle this."

But then his phone rang. Cloud looked at it, and paled, standing quickly. "I gotta take this."

Namine nodded. "Okay, I'll wait here."

Cloud left the lobby and opened his phone. He had halfway been expecting a telemarketer to start talking—since that's what he wished it was when he saw a number he didn't recognize. But, that was just wishful thinking. After all, he did rat out the whereabouts of one of the most powerful women in the United States. How could he think that she wouldn't eventually find him?

"H-hello?" Cloud whispered.

"Good afternoon, Cloud."

"Who is this?"

"This is someone who might be just a tad bit annoyed with you."

"I'm sorry."

"You put someone in quite a position, you understand?"

Cloud nodded. "Look, I just wanted to protect my family. I was just doing what I had to. You can understand that, right?"

Silence.

"I'm sorry that I did that. I know I shouldn't have, but…you don't give a fuck."

"That is true."

"I can make it up to you."

"That is not the reason you were called."

Cloud quieted. If he wasn't in trouble, then why on Earth was Aqua calling him? She never did that before.

"I told you I never wanted to hear your name again unless you had a pedigree attached to it. Unfortunately, you now have that pedigree, but it has come with a shitload of problems."

"What are you talking about?"

"Your father died recently. And I fear that you will be killed because your family is greedy. I cannot have this. You have a job to do that I don't want to be interfered with."

Cloud sighed. "Fuck."

"I am not sure what it is that I need to do yet. I will know within a few days."

"Yeah?"

"Watch Riku carefully, please."

"I will—I am."

"Oh. I almost forgot." There was a short pause, and Cloud could hear paper flipping in the background. "If you screw me over again, I won't hesitate to kill your fiancé. I like you, Cloud, but not that fucking much."

Cloud blinked in disbelief as dialtone rang in his ears. Aqua truly was a gangster in every sense. She had so willingly let him leave her enterprise without a fight. She allowed him to move around seemingly unsupervised. Obviously she had not felt the need to try to control him, or force him to do anything, but—he guessed—she did not take kindly to whatever Mick had done to her.

Something that wouldn't have happened if Cloud had respected Aqua more than Mick. But, that just wasn't the way it was. Mick had freed him and Namine, and he would do whatever it took to return that favor.

No matter how pissed God would get.

* * *

><p>"<em>Hey, it's me again…Hayner. I…uh, I wanted to just call and let you know that I told my parents about my relationship with you. They didn't like it. I know I told you this, like, a week ago, but you haven't called back. I'm just thinking that maybe they are keeping you at the hospital longer than you expected. So, give me a call, will you? Bye…<em>

"_Isa, I've been trying to reach you for a couple of days now…I just wanted you to know that I was going to lie low in Cleveland for a little bit. Just while I wait for you to get back to me. I just hope you didn't forget about me. I miss you…_

"_It's Hayner. Look, I understand that you are a little down because of what happened, but it's been two weeks. I don't understand why you haven't called me back. I'm doing okay, but I think there are some people here who don't like Aqua. I'm just a little worried, and I wish you were here…_

"_Isa! You have to help me! I'm hiding behind this Chinese place, and those guys I told you about before are looking for me. They think I'm trying to spy on their operations. I don't want them to hurt me…Please come as soon as you can…Ahh!_

"_It's Hayner again. I'm in pain but I lived. I'm going back to New York so I won't get killed. I'll meet you there. I really wish you would just call me. I miss you. I want to make sure you're okay. I haven't heard from Aqua at all, but I don't think she wants to talk to me because I'm not a high enough status…Call me._

"_Why won't you call me, Isa? Haven't I shown you loyalty? Have I not been by your side every minute? Why do you love that whore? What does she have that I don't…please, just call me…Fuck._

_"Isa…I've been hurt…I think my nose is broken…please, watch out for strangers…"_

Isa hung up his phone after listening to the thousandth message Hayner had left him. "Why the fuck does he keep calling me?"

Miami was a pleasant place to lie low. After Aqua's dismissal, and after the shattering of every bone in his leg, Isa had fallen into a peculiar kind of depression. One that was unhealthy for a man who had access to every drug imaginable. Morphine had quickly become his favorite, and instead of spending his days courting woman and badgering Aqua, he spent them locked in his hotel room, shooting Morphine into his veins like he was drinking water from the fountain of youth.

The Morphine kicked in almost as soon as the needle tip broke through his skin. His tense body relaxed into a mellow doughy-like recline and everything seemed ten times funnier. The blue dye in his hair had begun to fade to its original brown, and he was clearly transforming into an empty shell of the bright care-free man he used to be.

Hayner didn't matter anymore now that he could only utter a single name whilst he wasted his life in a spiraling tunnel of drugs, and the slight satisfaction of masturbating every other hour. No, he was certainly dead, even if his body refused to rot in the ground for the time being. Life was pointless to him. It almost seemed to spark this new determination to do whatever the fuck he wanted. But the Morphine did exactly the opposite.

However, as that pain in his heart and his soul mounted again, he reached for his unlimited supply of pain free pleasure, and was promptly interrupted by a knock on his hotel door. His leg, pinned together by metal, made it impossible to move without the use of crutches or a wheelchair. He decided that he wasn't going to make the effort to move, so he lay back on his bed and closed his eyes.

"Go the fuck away!"

Knocking.

"God damnit."

As he struggled to his feet, crutches resting under his armpits like they belonged there, Isa hobbled over to the door and opened it. Standing in the doorway wearing a dress created from the sun itself, was Aqua. She was radiant as ever, hair much longer than it had been the last time they had seen each other and tied into a messy ponytail.

She blended into Miami perfectly.

"What the fuck do you want, you sleazy fucking cunt?" Isa growled.

Aqua glared at him. "Don't you dare talk to me like that."

"Oh, excuse me. What the fuck do you want, Your Highness, the sleazy fucking cunt?"

Aqua eased her way into without invite and Isa closed the door, spinning around clumsily.

"I just wanted to see how you were doing," Aqua said finally. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"That's the biggest load of shit I've ever heard come from a woman's mouth."

Aqua sighed softly. "I also wanted to apologize for my irrationality."

"Is this before or after my leg was destroyed?" Isa asked snidely. "Or is this about the fucking?"

Aqua sucked her cheek in. "Listen, things just got complicated. I had to make a split second decision."

"You should really get the fuck out of here," Isa said tersely. "I really don't want to talk to you right now. You make me so mad. I might just fucking kill you my damn self."

Aqua tensed. "If you are challenging me, I have no problems leaving you on the side of the road with a bullet in your skull. I have much more important things to be worried about besides your ego."

"This isn't about my fucking ego!" Isa roared. "This is about you, and your little fucking parade of mishaps that are starting to grind me down in the worst kind of way. I don't know why you just can't understand this tiny little idea. Are you stupid or something? Or are you just being a selfish little cunt?"

Aqua blinked slowly. She had been able to stay calm for most of her life in the underground. She had secured her empire based on her ability to take everything in stride and overcome her hurt feelings. Business was business. Nothing was personal. That was the way of the organized criminal. But the tone in Isa's voice, and the way he glared at her got under her skin, instantaneously triggering this barbaric animal that wanted so badly to kill anything and everything that spoke.

And Aqua always came prepared for violent confrontation.

Which is why she had pushed the barrel of a gun to Isa's temple without hesitating. That scared teenager who just secured her first city was lurking in her eyes. She was terrified, and because she had reverted to a personality that was so much more different than the predictable nature of her adulthood, Isa became fearful.

"Are you crazy?"

Aqua smirked. "I'm beginning to believe so. I'm in too deep, Isa. I need to get out before I fuck up permanently."

"Is that why you came to me?" Isa asked. "For help? Because you can forget that shit. I'm not helping you. Not anymore."

Aqua forced a deep breath. "I don't want or need your help, Isa. I just want you to shut the fuck up for once in your life."

Isa closed his mouth.

"I'm planning to do the unthinkable."

Isa remained silent.

"And in order to do so, I need to admit a few things just so I can cover my bases."

Aqua withdrew her gun and hid it on her person. It was amazing how a woman so graceful could hide such a destructive weapon so close to her heart. It was clear that that weapon was eating away at her, and she was suffering because of it. It was tainting her soul.

"I'm a mother."

Isa opened and closed his mouth repeatedly. "What?"

"I was raped by my Captain, and I had his child."

Isa blinked. "Why didn't you—?"

"Because it was none of your business," Aqua interrupted. "But, if I die during this little task of mine, I want to make sure he'll be okay. That's what I need you for. To dole out what I leave behind to my…" Aqua paused briefly. "Only child."

Isa's eyes grew wide. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. After all that time he had spent with her, even when they weren't drug dealers or murderers, she had never mentioned it. He had never seen her gain any kind of weight that would make it obvious, she never had any mood swings, or ate uncontrollably.

"You're shitting me." Isa breathed after a moment. "I really don't fucking know you anymore."

"No, Isa." Aqua corrected. "You never knew me. Not even when we were kids."

Isa grimaced.

"I would like to think that this will turn out okay," Aqua said after a tense moment of silence. "I'd like to think that by me being lenient for once, everything will go back to the way it was. But, I did something that I'm not so sure was the right thing."

Isa didn't say anything.

"I'm tired of this."

Isa frowned.

Aqua sighed heavily and stared at Isa for a long time. That connection that they had made in a similar hotel room not that long ago was a distant memory, but they were still joined together. Even though they didn't feel the same way, and Isa had certainly developed bitter feelings towards her, there was this simplistic platonic love between them. One that could never be shattered no matter how many times they parted or yelled at each other. No matter how many guns they stared down, they would always be together.

This kind of love was the very same that people craved all around the world. Some called it finding a soulmate. Others called it destiny. Whatever it was, Isa and Aqua had it. It was a shame that they would never allow it to intrude their separate quests for power and stature; it really was.

"Are you going to tell me what you did?" Isa asked.

Aqua smiled briefly. "If I told you, you wouldn't like me very much."

"I already don't like you."

"But you love me."

Isa's face slackened. His leg began to twitch uncomfortably. He was ashamed of his feelings. Aqua watched him wither more on the inside, and she did nothing to console him. No innuendos, no winks or playful remarks. She just let him rot on the inside.

"I have to go."

Isa didn't move as Aqua swept past him. The smell of her hair—which reminded him very much of an Almond Joy—lingered in his nostrils, tempting his emotions. He wanted to call out to her, insult her so she would turn around and stay and wrinkle her nose in frustration, or furrow her brow like a child. But he couldn't bring himself to do it.

He knew she would just ignore him. That's what Gods did. They ignored.

So, this is what true rejection felt like.

And as the door snapped shut, Isa burst out in hysterical cries, reached for a needle, and falling back on his bed, forgetting everything that was wrong with the world. At least until that stabbing pain in his heart and soul returned.

* * *

><p>"I'm pretty sure you're just over reacting."<p>

Yuffie, who had returned to California after her meeting with Julian and Aqua, was pacing the living room of her home. Like most that were stereotypical for a rich Californian suburban, Yuffie's house was exquisite, though she knew nothing of the layout, and cringed every time she looked at the paintings on the walls. She hated it.

Yuffie huffed. "No, she threatened me! Me! Can you believe that shit?"

The woman she spoke to nodded disdainfully. "Of course I can. You're hot-headed, and you don't know your place. And to be frank, you are a little bit of a bitch."

Yuffie folded her arms, scowling at her company. "I didn't ask you. She's just getting on my nerves, Lockheart."

The woman stood. "Don't sweat it. She's older than you, m'kay? She's supposed to be that possessive and crass. You'll eventually end up the same way, I'm sure. If you live long enough."

"I should just go and kill her," Yuffie said, completely ignoring the woman's slight. "That's exactly what I should do. I'll show her."

The woman shook her head. "And then when she's dead, and you go to jail because you can't plan a contract worth a damn, what am I supposed to do? Take over? I don't think so."

"Tifa," Yuffie whined. "I don't want her to hurt me."

Tifa laughed. "Aqua doesn't give a shit about what's going on over here, honey. She's just angry that her side of the country is in the toilet."

"But, what if she wants everything that I have?"

Tifa patted Yuffie on the head gently. "I don't know what they were thinking when they chose you to run the show. Don't worry, I'll go talk to her. That's my job. The Mediator. That's why you called me, right?"

Yuffie nodded. "But what do I do about my territory?"

Tifa smiled. "That's not my problem, honey. But, if I were in your shoes, I'd probably worry about how you're going to compensate for all those wild fires eating up your warehouses. It doesn't matter whether you have the product or not. It only matters that you pay when the bill comes, or you'll have a few more problems than just Aqua being a boss."

"You are no help."

Tifa chuckled. "I'll see what I can do about maybe setting up a meeting between you two so you can make your intentions clear. But, what do I call you?"

Yuffie scoffed. "What do you mean? You call me Yuffie."

Tifa rolled her eyes at Yuffie's ignorance. "No, honey. I mean, what is your title? I'm the Mediator, Aqua's Someone, or The Free God. So, what are you? So far, the only name I've heard is Aqua's west coast equivalent. I don't think that is really suitable."

Yuffie frowned in thought. "Uh, how about, Better Than Fucking You? Or Hop Off?"

Tifa shook her head. "You need to take this seriously. It's not a game."

"Is that why they call it 'the game'?" Yuffie asked sarcastically. "Because it isn't?"

Tifa sighed. "I'm only trying to help. That's my job. If you're not going to take this seriously, then I'm going to have to take matters into my own hands."

"I'm not afraid of you."

Tifa folded her arms. "My job is to keep balance within the Trisect. That means delivering messages, threats, and sometimes the occasionally gunshot to the head. Please, don't underestimate me, Yuffie. I want to be your friend."

Yuffie fell silent.

"I think the Golden Coast would be nice."

Yuffie smiled briefly. "That sounds perfect."

Tifa smiled back and left the house, pulling out her cell phone and getting into her car, which was admittedly not as nice as it could have been. The phone rang a couple times, and Tifa hung up quickly and redialed the same number. After the second ring, a somewhat groggy and very ill sounding voice answered.

"Hello?"

"Someone?"

"Yes?"

"It's The Mediator."

"Shit, what the fuck does that little pansy want? I'm not feeling so hot right now."

Tifa chuckled softly. "Don't worry. That "pansy" is now The Golden Coast. And she just wants to talk. Make some intentions clear. Are you prepared for a meeting?"

"Not really. Like I said, I'm not feeling so good right now. But, if she wants to meet, fine. I'm just letting you know now that if she says anything that pisses me off, the west coast will have to find another replacement."

Tifa scowled. "There is no need for your hostility. Tone it down."

"Why? I think we both know that she is incompetent and foolish. How she even managed to fall into a position like that is beyond me. Fucking rookie. Because of her, all my distributors are nervous about interstate relations. It's a fucking mess. The stocks are sliding because she's squeezing where she shouldn't be. And that restricts cash flow, which restricts the stocks. And guess who's looking at me now?"

Tifa sighed. "I'm sorry she's causing such a problem for you. I'll see what I can do about her handling. Maybe this can be discussed further when we meet."

"When?"

"I'll let you know shortly."

"Fine."

Tifa hung up the phone and leaned back in her seat. Things weren't off to a good start with the newbie. She should have seen it coming when Rufus Shinra was becoming more active in securing finances. Especially when he had sought her company a week ago. She didn't understand the motive behind it. Absorbing a microscopic delivery company? For what?

Something no good that's for sure.

* * *

><p>Oh, how the brain of the intellect can be so cruel and unrelenting. Forcing memories—both good and bad—to flash across the mind's eye in a numeric symphony of agony, mistreatment, excitement, and shame. How it brings about a sense of purpose not seen before, and how it builds up a determination most unusual.<p>

It provides the ultimate distraction from the horrors of reality, and brings new meaning to simple words and emotions that can be so hard to let go otherwise. And it never rests. Not until the mind accepts the message displayed.

Her beautiful red hair that had been frayed from abuse, milky white skin that had chalked over in fear. Those dazzling eyes of understanding and forgiveness. And lips so soft.

Why couldn't Zexion let that image go?

Why couldn't he move on?

_Because you love her._

But his brain couldn't rationalize that love. He had been mulling it over and over in his mind, trying to answer that question. His love—as strange a word for him to admit—was not platonic, nor obsessive—at least, not anymore—but a warped picture of what it should have been. That power he had felt when threatening Sora's life, the control over what was going to happen; it was like a drug.

And he had bowed to her whim. He couldn't make her unhappy, even if it meant that he had to let his anger and jealousy go for that one moment. But, he had been serious when he had spoken to her. If he were to ever have that same advantage—power over Sora's fate—again, he would kill him. No questions asked.

But, he could only truly dwell on the moment that his and Kairi's lips locked. He had asserted himself in a way he had never done before. He had become a doer in that one moment, stepping away from thought and acting only on action and desire. Becoming human for just a brief second in time.

And it felt good.

And what had felt even better was that, even though he had threatened the life of her boyfriend, even though he had crossed that line of insanity, when he had kissed her, she kissed him right back. He could still feel the warmth of her body in his hands. And how she shivered slightly to his touch, a welcoming and seemingly unimportant reaction.

"Zexion?"

Zexion blinked. He had been sitting in Vexen's lab for a while. Vexen was rubbing some kind of cream on the scar on his stomach. Ever since Marluxia has cut him, he had been in immense pain, even though the wound itself had healed. He assumed that Marluxia had poisoned the blade of his scythe so he could torture Kairi for days on end.

And just that thought alone made his blood boil.

"Zexion."

"Yes?"

Vexen stood up and crossed his lab. The first thing to catch the eye was the green glow of The Womb. However, inside the tank was no longer a Dusk, but something else entirely. It looked distinctly worm like, with many appendages lined on the sides. There was still some resemblance of the Dusk in its anatomy, but it moved by undulating its many arms, and it circled through the liquid like a snake.

"You've been awfully preoccupied lately," Vexen said. "I'm a little worried. You may be suffering from Post Traumatic Stress."

"I'm fine, Vexen."

"But you don't look it." Vexen threw Zexion a white T-shirt and sat back down in front of The Womb. "I'll admit that your rash is primarily gone, and the throat ulcers are looking much better, but you still look very sickly."

"Thanks for the compliment," Zexion muttered.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Zexion shook his head, pulling on the shirt and pressing the fabric to his scar. It felt nice, not as itchy as before. "Not really."

"Is it about Larxene?"

"Larxene is a self-destructive whore," Zexion barked. "She means absolutely nothing to me! Nothing!"

Vexen gasped slightly, taken aback. "I sense some pent up frustration. I am here to talk to, just in case you change your mind."

Zexion huffed and turned away. He glanced at The Womb and folded his arms, trying to not seem so angry. "What have you done to Dusk?"

Vexen immediately brightened and jumped to his feet. He scurried over to a cabinet and pulled out some files. "It's amazing, isn't it? I have successfully combined two different types of DNA into Dusk, therefore creating a new species of Nobody."

Zexion blinked again. "So, what's this called?"

"I haven't named it yet."

"What did you do?"

"Well, I used a type of sea worm DNA just to give it a more streamline anatomy. It's not transferring as well as I would have liked. You can still see some more human characteristics. And the frond like wings weren't supposed to be so definitive. They look more like arms to me."

"I think it turned out beautifully."

Vexen thumbed his chin. "The only thing is that I can't take it out of the water. I tried once and I almost killed it. It seems I might have to add a little something to compensate for that. Perhaps I could try something outside of the genome box. Maybe a plant?"

Zexion thought for a moment. "Try a plant that grows in very wet soil. That way, you could maybe get away with using a method of absorption to pull water from the soil, while still keeping your worm design. I actually find it quite fetching."

"That sounds like a really good idea actually." Vexen smiled. "Any suggestions?"

"The only thing that instantly comes to mind is a Venus Fly Trap, but your current creature maybe too advanced for such a basic plant. You might have to start over again and combine the two strands at the same time."

Vexen hummed quietly. "Yes, I think I'll do that. I'll just have to find another subject willing to donate their body to science. I'm sure I've still got charm."

Zexion closed his eyes briefly. "You do that. I'm going for a walk."

"Oh, before you go, I wanted to ask you something."

Zexion sighed impatiently. "Yes?"

"Have you heard anything of the Dusks in Scranton? I'm afraid I haven't been able to look into that as often as I would have liked."

Zexion smiled. It was strange how he had gone from such a somber placidity to a twisted excitement. As reserved as he was, when a science experiment he had been a part of went right, he became similar to a child getting a treat.

"There was an attack on the Steamtown Mall not that long ago."

"Really?"

"The news casting idiots say it was a highly trained tactical team of serial killers who laid waste to the entire mall, but I have reasons to believe otherwise. Out of about nine hundred people, only sixteen were reported wounded, and three were unscathed."

"Those are some good numbers."

"My guess is that the Dusks saw them as suitable hosts for the spreading of the virus. There would be no other reason to keep them alive."

Vexen chuckled. "That's fantastic."

"I'll try to see if I can get my hands on the footage from the security cameras. Just so Xehanort can take a look at it. But, it turned out very well. I did not, however, hear if any of the Dusks had died. I would have to go to Scranton to find out, and that's something I'm not too interested in doing at the moment."

"Fair enough. You can take your stroll now." Vexen said, turning back to the glow of The Womb. "I'm sure you have plenty to think about."

Zexion nodded and blinked slowly again. And, without another word, he turned on his heels and left the lab. He saw nobody on his way to the lounge, he saw nobody on his way out the front door, and he saw nobody as he made his way through the side streets of New York.

Which, to him, was very strange indeed.

Maybe it was a sign from God.

But, he didn't believe in God.

* * *

><p><strong>So, there you have it. But, I have to pay attention in class now. AVID editing, yo.<strong>

**Has a nice day, from the both of us.  
><strong>


	4. On Trial

**Hey, all! Here's the next chapter for ya'. Sora and Roxas are both changing as people and experimenting with different personas and thoughts, but where will it ultimately lead them?**

**Disclaimers and such…I don't own Kingdom Hearts, nor do I own any bands mentioned here…although I wish I owned Katie White. Oh the fun that would be, for me. **

**Hello, Haji here. I'm here to grovel and apologize for my tardiness. College eats you alive, you know. So, uh, yeah, sorry. Enjoy.**

* * *

><p>Roxas was laying on his bed in his room, staring at the ceiling and thinking about being a teenager. It was a silly thing to think about, but he thought about it nonetheless. It troubled him. He had been a teenager for too long, he figured. And, really, it was Hell. Being a teenager alone was execution…being a teenager <em>and<em> a teenager who made horrible mistakes was most certainly a type of damnation.

Adolescence. The time period of everyone's life during which they find out who they are. And, as a result, they make errors in judgment and have the full potential to hurt others through their frustration.

And Roxas had been very frustrated, so he very well hurt many people.

Now their voices were echoing in his psyche, scars that would never heal. All of the people he had slaughtered, both innocent and guilty, were now phantoms for him to bear. He had been a fool. He had been reckless.

These thoughts would have brought tears if he hadn't already cried himself dry over the past month or so. Since the night Axel, Xion, and Marluxia had died, he typically avoided everyone in Oblivion Labs, and mostly kept to himself. The people here somewhat scared him now, because they had gone from family members to enemies in just one night. He would've ran away had he anyplace to go; he killed his own mother and father.

He had never felt so alone in his entire life.

But, he thought he deserved it. How did his parents feel as he ripped them apart? How did the countless others he killed in the name of the Organization feel as he ended their lives? And, in time, how would the rest of the world feel when they realized they were doomed, victims of the Organization? Roxas had decided that the inevitable was coming: the Organization seemed at first very ambitious, but now that they could actually do the things they were planning - which they _could_ - they were downright threatening to everything this world had to offer.

Which was why, on the dawn of finding out about Axel's and Xion's death, Roxas vowed to stop them.

It was no easy decision. It took a lot of self-debates during showers to come to a dedication to any sort of solution. As he let the water from these showers wash his body, he allowed the solitude to wash his mind of all perceptions he once had. Soon, chaos seemed less important than anything; it was chaos that had resulted in the death of his two closest friends. He had spent his entire life thinking it was his friend, but received a shock when it was revealed to be nothing but an enemy.

The Organization had cured his depression, yes, but not completely. It merely…gave him an outlet for his depression, nothing more. This new clarity, however, was working wonders for him. He did not let it show; the rest would be suspicious; would he be happy after his girl and friend had perished? Furthermore, should they catch him, he would have a hard time explaining what it was he was feeling, as they would not understand it.

It was the feeling of purpose.

For most of his teenage years, Roxas had felt as though he was nothing more than an agent for the cause of chaos, but now he had a more prominent role than that. He had a responsibility to himself and to the people around him to bring an end to all of this.

It was not just to avenge the deaths of those he loved, but also to redeem himself in his own eyes. If he was misled into killing many people, he would use his right state of mind to spare the remaining billions. All of this, everything, would lead up to one thing: Xehanort and whoever remained with him standing at the gates of Power and readying themselves to slaughter the masses, and Roxas standing in the middle between them and the people they were to harm.

He was not Ryan Hall anymore. He was not Member XIII, either. He was Roxas, a Nobody, and that was how he would either triumph or fail.

There was a knock on his door.

"Yes?" he called.

Vexen spoke. "It is time, Roxas. Please come downstairs now."

"Okay. I'll be there in a few."

Roxas hopped out of bed and walked over to his bedroom mirror. He stared at himself, observing closely. How he wished to be somebody, anybody, else. Somebody _outside_ of all this. He shrugged off his clothes and put on his robes, then opened his drawer and put on his two rings.

One ring was black, the other white. Both neutral colors. He wore them to remind himself what his stance was in all this. He could not forgive the crimes the world had committed against him, but he could also not let everyone suffer due to his mistakes and rashness. He had come to the Organization a boy, and it was time for him to become a man.

Roxas walked out of his room and went down the elevator to the Lobby, where he was greeted by the remaining Members of the Organization, who were all sitting upon rather tall chairs that Roxas had never seen before. The tallest chair belonged to Xehanort who sat upon it like a king, staring down at Roxas with his intense, cat-like eyes. In front of these tall chairs was a lesser chair.

"Ryan Hall, Member XIII," said the Superior in his booming voice. "Have a seat please."

"Yes, sir."

"You are aware why we're having this trial?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. I must say, it's long overdue. Alas, we've been busy. We have let you keep quiet for a very long period of time. We've come to two possible reasons for this: either you're not a traitor, or you _are_, but an afraid traitor."

Roxas said nothing.

Xehanort continued: "Axel lead Zexion and Marluxia into the building he rigged to blow up, and apparently lured your woman inside as well. Although I understand the motives of a traitor would be to kill those he is betraying, I cannot, for the life of me, understand why he selected those three. I have my suspicions, but I cannot be certain. The floor will now go to Zexion."

Everyone in the Lobby turned to the intellectual, who blushed and cleared his throat.

"Yes," he spoke. "Well…Ahem. Before I went to the Grand Hotel, I was confronted by Axel in this very room, where he claimed that Marluxia had gone rampant and had kidnapped both Lily Ion and Kairi O'Cooper, the latter being an…an enemy to the Organization. Wanting to…" He swallowed hard, then started again. "Wanting to see what the problem was and to perhaps kidnap the O'Cooper-girl for information, I came to the Hotel. O'Cooper was there with Marluxia, but Lily was nowhere to be found. Sora O'Reilly came to save his girlfriend. The building then started to collapse, and the two enemies of the Organization ran for it. I went after them with Marluxia, but they overpowered us and got away. Although I made it out alive, Marluxia burned to death.

"After a bit of searching, I gave up on finding the two enemies, assuming they were long gone. I went back to the ruins of the building to find Axel standing there with a detonator in his hands. I shot him thrice in the torso, and he died right there."

"Question for Zexion," spoke Xigbar suddenly.

All eyes went to the assassin.

Zexion coughed and replied, "Yes?"

"Why is it that you went back to the ruins of the Grand Hotel?"

"Well, I wanted to see if I could dig up evidence in favor of-"

"But if you were lead in there by Axel, shouldn't it come to you naturally that he was the one responsible?"

"Well, I meant to say that I went back to find evidence that Axel may or may not be trying cover up…"

"You meant to say that? Well, you didn't."

Zexion snarled. "What's your point, Xigbar? You think I blew up the Hotel and killed Marluxia and Axel? Can you think of any reason as to why I would do this?"

"How the fuck should I know? Ever since you've gotten back from Hawaii you've been acting strangely. I even talked to Vexen here about it, and he says you displayed many symptoms of stress-related illnesses."

"_What is your point, Xigbar_?"

"Excuse me, you snotty little prick, but all of this is relatable to what I am about to say."

Scowling, Zexion hissed, "I thought your job here was to shoot, not think."

"Spoken like a true politician. Anyways, my main point is this: if Zexion was dealing with stress-related problems and was at the scene of the crime and _directly_ responsible for the death of Axel, then why isn't he in Roxas' place, and Roxas in his?"

Everyone in the room was silent.

Then, Xehanort said, "Xigbar, my friend…Mick Mouse told you at the Saddle Brooke airport that Axel had kidnapped Kairi. Did he not?"

"He did. But what if Axel and Zexion had teamed up?"

"Then why would he blow the building up with me inside it, you imbecile?" asked Zexion.

Xigbar pursed his lips, then said, "What would be your alternative, then? What would be the motive of killing you, Marluxia, and Xion?"

Zexion snapped, "What would be the motive of _me_ killing any Member unless they were traitors?"

"I don't know!" yelled Xigbar. "You tell me!"

Xehanort soothed, "Xigbar, please. What motive would Zexion possibly have had?"

"I just said I don't know! But I _do_ know that he's sick in the fucking head. Not just from Vexen's physical; I can see it in his eyes. He's possibly as psychotic as Marluxia was, for Christ's sake!"

Zexion roared, "My sanity is just fine, thank you! The reason for my anxiety is rather simplistic, if you _must know_: my responsibilities over the Virus are quite thought-consuming and difficult to act out-"

"_What_ responsibilities? Vexen's _breeding_ the fucking things and he's as chipper as ever! You always had the stomach to act out cruelly, but that trip to Hawaii made you really fucking lose it. What happened in Hawaii?"

"Absolutely nothing."

"I doubt that."

"This is absurd."

"Not at all. But, if you think so, I beseech you; give me your idea as to how Roxas is involved in this."

"For one, his best friend did it."

"Ah, but his girlfriend was in the building at the time. How'd she get in there, Zexion? Accident?"

"I…"

"Furthermore, upon Axel's corpse we found a walkie-talkie. Which means he was in contact with someone close by."

"Well, as he is a traitor, I'd assume he was talking to O'Reilly."

"Then why would he kidnap O'Cooper?"

Zexion bit his lip.

Xigbar continued, "This entire trial is unnecessary. The overall point I am making is that any one of us could be a culprit, but the way things seem is that nobody in this room knows why Axel betrayed us other than Axel."

"You said yourself that you found a walkie-talkie on him, Xigbar," said Xehanort. "To whom do you think he was talking with, then?"

"Wouldn't it be safe to assume," added Zexion. "That he was talking to his best friend?"

Xigbar's incredulity was almost contagious. "So you're telling me that Roxas here conspired with Axel to kill his girlfriend, Marluxia, and you, Zexion, along with O'Cooper? Then Roxas _stayed_ here, after the deaths of his friend a girlfriend, for a month to…what? Kill the rest of us, if he _is_ a traitor? Then what's taking him so fucking long? If what you propose is correct, then Roxas here outsmarted even _you_, Zexion; surely he'd have a follow-up plan. However, all he does is hang around!"

"I had no idea you were so smitten, Xigbar…"

"Oh, spare me. Spare me this 'holier-than-thou'-_shit_, Zexion."

Saix interjected coldly, "Don't be offended by Xigbar, Six. He's been rather critical of everyone lately."

"I speak my mind. Does that threaten you, Saix? I thought Ryan here was a son to you."

"He is. But I'm not fond of this new attitude you've adopted."

"Ha! Gonna expel me? Give me ten lashes, then crucify me? I have a right to say whatever I want, even if it offends your tender sensibilities."

"Enough of this!" roared Saix. He turned to Xehanort. "Sir, I thought I was second-in-command! What is the point of my rank if this imbecile can say whatever he wants to me?"

Xigbar laughed hysterically. "Aww, Saix. What's wrong? Gonna do me in? Good! I'd die happily opposing your bullshit. Hell, I'd die happily opposing this entire system at the moment! We're condemning a fucking kid for being friends with an _adult_ traitor. This is completely ridiculous."

Roxas cleared his throat loudly.

All Members looked down at him.

He spoke, "I'm sorry, but I don't think any of you truly understand how much the Organization means to me. What did I have before all of you? Nothing. You all truly are the only family I have ever had. The fact that Axel did what he did is beyond me. I _loved_ Lily. She was the only person I could relate to in the world." He looked directly at Zexion. "I barely know you. Our jobs seldom entwine, and we aren't exactly friends, either. I respect all you have done and all you will do. However, if you're going to sit there and accuse me of murdering Lily, I'm afraid you and I are going to have a problem both professionally and not."

Zexion said nothing, only leered.

Roxas continued, "I am not a traitor. Neither, do I believe, was Axel...fully. Marluxia, however, was a reckless psychopath. Whatever happened that night is only known by Axel and Marluxia. Both are dead. Whatever feud they had is over, as both are…gone." He croaked the last word.

The room became full of concerned eyes.

_Suckers_, Roxas thought, grinning inwardly.

Then, Xehanort said, "All those who still believe Roxas here is a conspirator…say aye."

No one spoke.

"Cleared of all charges, then."

* * *

><p>The small car carrying the four crooks moved pretty damn fast, Braig noticed as he floored the gas pedal of his police vehicle. The streets here in SoHo weren't that busy today, letting both cars swerve amongst the traffic. The four criminals had stolen from a local bank. They were small-timers, all identified as such, but dangerous. They had lost the other squad cars giving chase to them, but Braig would be damned if he was beaten by these punks.<p>

They pulled into the open garage of a dilapidated warehouse. Taking his chances, Braig parked the squad car at the front of this place. He checked the rounds of his sidearm; full. He got out of the car and walked slowly towards the front door, gun tight in his hands.

Almost like he had appeared magically, Felix Vanitas suddenly stood beside him, hellishly coated in whatever horrible mess of a weapon his grandfather had made.

"Hey, man," said Felix happily.

"Hey, buddy. I'm a little busy right now."

"How many inside?"

"Four. You want two?"

"Sure. I'll make it a surprise."

"Awesome possum. Oh! Wait! Thanks for reminding me…" Braig quickly pulled out a small necklace from his pocket. On it was a green, transparent gem. He held it out to his friend.

"What's this?" asked Felix.

"I always figured it was a pain in the ass to hide Void underneath your clothes. I had this gem specifically hollowed out so you can transfer it inside. See the small holes in it? That's so it can slither out and back in at your whim. I mean, you told me you have that mental connection with it…don't you?"

"I do. Thanks, man! This is frocking great!"

"Anytime, partner. Try it out."

Vantias let the necklace hang on his chest, then concentrated; sure enough, the black fluid slithered off of him and filled the little vial on the jewelry. His eyes glowed with excitement.

"Oh, sick!" he breathed.

Braig smiled, nodded, and said, "Alright. Let's do this shit."

They opened the front door and went in. The warehouse wasn't very large. No machinery was left inside of it, and only empty crates littered the area. However, in the middle of this large room stood the four crooks, each armed with machine guns, glowering at the two who entered their rendezvous.

Braig held out his arms happily. "Boys! Nice to finally catch up with you."

"Stuff it up your ass, pig," one replied. "Get out now or we open fire."

Vanitas laughed. "Ooo. Scary."

"Got something to say, pretty-boy?"

"Not really. I hate talking. It gets pretty fucking boring." He turned to Braig. "Ehh…I dunno about you in this one, bro. They've got…what are those lovely weapons, gentlemen?"

One spoke: "9 millimeter submachine guns."

"Yeah, those."

"I can handle it," said Braig confidently.

"Okay. You take two, I take two?"

"Yep."

The four crooks looked shocked as Vanitas' suit rolled out of his new gem and attached itself to his skin.

Screeching like an animal, he jumped forward. They fired, but their nerves made it hard for them to aim. Vanitas grabbed two by their throats and brought them out-of-sight behind a couple of crates. Braig, using the distraction, fired four times at the other two, who crumpled as the bullets hit them. Sprays of blood splattered across the pavement of the floor. Behind the crates, Vanitas ripped and tore the others apart, savagely biting and scratching. Once he was done, he hopped over the crates and landed next to Braig. Both men savored the pride of their kills, then left the warehouse. Braig got into the driver's seat while Vanitas, who removed his suit, hopped into the passenger's. They drove down the street.

"Wanna get some breakfast?" asked Vanitas. "I'm itchin' for some coffee."

"Sounds like a plan, Stan. Any news on Mick's group of faggots?"

"I tracked down Hayner. Riku is in D.C. currently, maybe working for that cunt Godfrey. Which, I guess, means the rest of 'em are there, too."

"What will you do?"

"Well, I've got a train ticket for tomorrow morning. I'll ride down and see what I can do. Here's a Dunkin' Donuts."

They pulled up to the curb and walked into the small Dunkin' Donuts. The air was warm with the rich smell of coffee and pastries. They ordered two coffees and two glazed donuts, then walked outside and sat on the hood of the police car.

"Y'know," said Braig, taking a sip of coffee. "I'm not exactly sure what I'll do with them once I have them. Maybe I'll just talk with them…at gunpoint or something. Assure them I can get the job done myself. With your help, too, of course."

"Right. And Xehanort?"

"Xehanort…he's the ultimate prize, it seems. I'll have my eyes peeled for him."

"As will…_eye_. Get it, Jude?"

Braig choked on his coffee and began laughing. He punched Felix in the shoulder and said, "You're so _gay_, Felix."

"Yeah, you love me anyways."

Braig laughed again. Felix joined him.

They finished their coffees and donuts watching the city of gray around them, the empire of the world that never rested, the kingdom of dark streets and open dreams.

* * *

><p>"Sora, wake up…"<p>

"Mmrphh…"

"C'mon, man. Wake up."

"Lemmelone."

"No. Wake up or I'll drag your ass outta bed. It's time for school."

Sora groaned and opened his eyes, his body shivering as it was exposed to the chilly morning air. As much as he wanted to get out of bed, he felt as though his body just wouldn't allow it. He was a rock in a river; not going anywhere. He looked to see Riku walking out of the bedroom that Sora was given and into the kitchen. Sora groaned again and forced himself off the bed. He pulled off his shorts and T-Shirt and put on clean clothes: a white T-shirt, dark blue jeans, and a black, hooded faux jacket he had bought because he thought it looked cool. He walked down the hall to the next room, the bathroom, and brushed his teeth. Taking a look at his hair, he shrugged, put a small glop of gel in his palm, then messed it. He sprayed on a small spritz of cologne, then walked out into the kitchen, where Riku was cooking sausages.

"I swear, Sora, sometimes I feel like your goddam mother."

"You _are_ my guardian, though."

"So?"

"So…shut up."

Riku served the sausages, and Sora ate them up despite his stomach ache. Every school morning his stomach troubled him, as he was nervous. He had dealt with killers and madmen before, yes, but the social anxiety remained. He wondered if these feelings were normal; he hoped they were, too.

Riku looked out the apartment window and said, "The bus is here. Do you have lunch money?"

"Yep."

"Alrighty. See you after school, hombre."

"Gotcha."

"Do you have your cell?"

"_Yes_, Riku."

"Alright, just making sure. I'll be home myself at six, so make yourself something to eat."

"'kay! Bye, dude."

Sora walked down the stairs and out of the apartment building, shuddering at the autumn day's chill. The sky was dark and cloudy, and the sight of the banana-yellow bus did not necessarily illuminate this dread. Sora pulled his hood over his head and walked onto the bus. In the front of the bus sat the screeching and laughing little kids, and in the back the high schoolers brooded and listened to their mp3 players. Sora walked back and sat down in the seat he sat in by himself. He looked over at the seat across to see a freshman girl with piercings and exotic clothing looking at him expressionless. He gave her a cheery grin, but she ignored that and continued staring. Uncomfortable, Sora turned and looked out the window as the bus began to pull away from the apartment.

Sora closed his eyes as two of the more talkative teenagers, one being the girl next to Sora and the other a fellow junior guy, got into a conversation.

"I really don't wanna be here right now," said the guy. "This weekend killed me."

"Did you go to Dana's party, too?" replied the girl.

"Yeah. I saw you and Ian having a good time."

"Mhmm."

"I guess you'll sleep with _anyone_, huh?"

"Not anyone," said the girl, suddenly sounding disgusted.

There was a brief bit of silence.

Then, the guy said, "That ain't right. He's a new kid."

"He doesn't know. He's sleeping."

Sora's heart raced as he understood who was the butt of this insult, and he closed his eyes tighter, wishing he was somewhere else.

The bus pulled up to the primary school, then the elementary and middle school, then lastly the high school. Sora magically "awoke" as the bus dropped them off, and walked off the vehicle, making sure to avoid eye contact with anyone remaining on the bus. He sulked off and realized with another twinge of panic that there were ten minutes to kill before the homeroom bell rang. He silently walked into the school.

Immediately, he was amongst hundreds of teenagers hanging out in the lobby, talking about their weekends and social lives and whatnot. Sora remembered when he acted just like one of them, but the Organization had stripped him of that.

With his head down, he quietly made his way to the auditorium, where a couple others would hang out - mostly couples looking for some alone time. He took a folding seat in the back of the room, and kicked back. He took out his cell phone, and saw to his delight that he had a new text.

From Kairi: "hey cutie (: wanna hang out when i get off work?".

Sora typed in, "kk. (:".

His thumb hovered over the send button, but then…

"Sora! What're you doing back here by yourself?"

Sora looked up to meet the big, brown eyes of Belle Bright. Belle was Sora's age, but was about the size of a freshman. She was not pencil thin, but certainly not repulsively large, either. In her arms she carried her schoolbooks, and on her face she carried a pretty smile that could light up any dark room. Sora smiled back, blushing and snapping his phone shut.

"Just chilling," he said, hoping that was the coolest thing to say.

Belle laughed. "That's cool. Can I chill with you?"

"It would be an honor to chill with someone as chill as yourself, miss."

Belle laughed again and sat down on the seat next to Sora. She pulled out a pink iPod and white headphones, placed one headphone in her ear, then asked Sora, "Wanna listen?"

"Um…sure."

He took the other bud and snugged it into his right ear. She played some songs by the Ting Tings, and they sat there like that together until the bell rang, each closing their eyes and enjoying each other's presence. Sora almost audibly groaned when the homeroom bell rang.

"Wanna come with me to my locker?" Belle asked, looking at him and grinning.

Sora smiled back. "Yeah, sure. We can go to class together, if you want."

"Sounds _chill_, dawg!"

Sora laughed and they both stood up, walking out of the auditorium together.

The hallways of the school were almost always crowded, making it hard to move around and navigate through them. Belle's locker was in a more isolated corner, as two of her neighbors had moved to other schools, giving her a lot of space. Sora leaned against the neighboring lockers as she got her books and whatnot. He wondered if in this school he looked like some sort of psychopath with his faux jacket and hood up…but, then again, he didn't really care. He had been a kiss-ass for far too long, he thought.

He assumed he wasn't _that_ scary-looking, however, as one large boy in a bright blue football uniform came up to him, undeterred.

"Hey, man," said the kid in a low voice.

"Hi," said Sora.

"Hey, Iggy!" said Belle cheerfully as she got on her tiptoes to reach her books. "What's up?"

"Nothin'. I just gotta talk to the new kid real quick."

Belle looked at Sora, smiled, and said, "Alright. Just hurry up; he's mine for the morning. I guess you can call it our first date." She gave him a cheery grin and continued getting her books together.

Iggy put an arm around Sora's shoulders and walked away from Belle's locker.

"Listen," said Iggy. "I don't know you, really, but you seem like a decent-enough kid, and I don't wanna see you get hurt."

"Huh?"

"Y'see, my friend is really tryna get with Belle. Badly. He don't want nobody steppin' in."

"Your friend?"

"Yeah, man. Curley Gaston."

A large, gorilla-shaped boy came to Sora's mind at the name…ah, yes. Gaston was the football team's quarterback, and he was also a complete jackass.

Iggy continued, "I just wanna say…if you're trying to get with Belle, Gaston is gonna get pissed. And when Gaston is pissed, his friends beat the shit outta whoever it is that's pissin' him off. I don't wanna have to beat your ass, so keep it cool, aight? You understand me?"

Sora shrugged away from Iggy and said coldly, "Actually, I already have a girlfriend."

"Oh, okay. Good."

"But that's not all."

"Huh?"

Sora looked Iggy dead in the eye and said, "If that motherfucker Gaston even lays one _finger_ on Belle, I will personally beat his ass. _You_ understand _me_?"

Iggy pushed him, hard. Sora took a step back, but stood his ground other than that; who was this asshole compared to Luxord, or Lexaeus, or Marluxia? Nothing. Some brute.

Iggy growled, "Don't do this to yaself, kid. I'll kick your ass anytime, anywhere."

"Leave him alone, you fucking inbred asshole," interjected a voice.

Both Iggy and Sora turned to see an average-sized boy walking towards them coolly. The boy had a certain air to him that Sora found almost like Riku; an air of someone _cool_. Someone who could calmly shoot himself in the foot and not shed a damn tear.

"Brett Evans, you punk," snarled Iggy. "You put this kid up to this? How many times we gotta tell ya', man? Stay away from Belle."

"Sorry, man, but these are the way things are. There's Gaston, there's Belle, and I'm somewhere in the middle protecting the latter."

"The what?"

"Jesus Christ. Yeah, this kid was doing my work for me while I was taking a leak. That a problem?"

"It's gonna fucking be!"

"Pfft. What're you assholes gonna do to me? Jump me? Fucking do it."

Iggy raised a finger and wagged it in Brett's face. "We'll see you after school, faggot." He walked away.

Brett laughed.

Sora chuckled himself and said, "Thanks, man."

"Hey, no problem. Thanks for, uh…y'know."

"What?"

"Standing up for her."

Sora studied the boy. "Well, yeah. It's common sense to. She's nice."

"Right, I know. Believe me, I know. You're not…interested in her, are you?"

"Why? Gonna threaten me, too?"

"No! No. I'm…just wondering."

"No," said Sora calmly. "I have no plans on dating Belle. I hardly know her. I'm the new kid, remember? We're just friends. And friends don't let friends date jerks."

Relief came over Brett's face and he laughed. "Alright, cool. I'll see you around…?"

"Sora." He stuck out his hand.

"Brett." They shook.

Sora grinned and turned to go back to Belle, when Brett called for him again. When Sora turned around, Brett added, "Don't tell her I did that for her. Okay?"

Realization coming over him, Sora smiled and nodded.

He walked back to the locker, where Belle was now waiting for him. When he arrived, she asked, "What did Iggy want?"

"He wanted to ask me if I played any sports. I told him I'm not the type."

"Fair enough. You don't seem the type."

"I'm not."

"I used to cheer."

"Really?"

They began to walk to class.

"Mhmm. But then I joined stage crew, and I thought that was cool. So I stuck with it."

"Stage crew? Not an actress?"

"Nah."

"I'm actually kinda surprised. You've got the looks to be one."

"Aww, thank you! But I'm not a good actress. I'm too shy."

"Welcome to the club."

She giggled. "Do I get a V.I.P. membership card?"

"You can be vice president."

"Ooo. Hopefully that doesn't interfere with my duties as co-founder of the Single Saps Association."

"The S.S.A.?" asked Sora, amused.

"Sure, but in order to join you have to be an A-S-S."

"I should be supreme leader."

"Nahh. You're too nice to be an ass."

"And you're _such_ a bully, Belle, it's no wonder how you got in…"

They both laughed as they entered their History class. At the doorway, Sora made sure to flip open his phone and hastily press "send". He didn't want to blow Kairi off.

The first two periods of the day played out as usual: the teachers talked, Sora pretended to listen, and not much else. Instead of paying attention, he typically doodled a couple pictures of Keyblades in his notebook. After second period, lunch came, which Sora dreaded. The food wasn't the greatest here, and he also had nobody to sit with. Today was no exception. He took the cold turkey wrap drenched in Italian dressing and sat down at the end of a long lunch table. On the other side of it were a group of boys and girls, all joking around and laughing.

Belle wasn't in this lunch. He was almost glad; to have her see him like this, all alone like some freak, would be embarrassing. It wasn't like _she_ didn't have any friends. She had quite a few. Mostly because she was a cool girl, or at least Sora thought.

However, this was what happened when you only had one friend: you were alone for the rest of the day.

And so Sora was alone for the rest of the school day.

* * *

><p>Sid Fetcher was the regional manager of Penn InvestmentsStatics Analysis here in Scranton, known around his office as "the Hard Ass". A former military man, Fetcher knew how to press buttons and press 'em good. It took him one solid year of hard work to become regional manager here, and with that power came lots of benefits. For example, one of his accountants was out doing his laundry for him. It didn't matter to Fetcher one bit.

Losers were losers and winners were winners. That's how the world worked. Even if people said otherwise, they were wrong…and were also most likely losers. Fetcher had been a winner since his loving mother birthed him. The losers weren't put in charge; the winners were. Fetcher made sure to remind his employees who they were on a daily basis.

Right now, Fetcher was being a winner as he sat in his comfortable chair, eating salted assorted nuts and enjoying the sun as it set behind the Electric City. What a world.

A knock on the door.

"Hello?"

"It's Mason."

Ah. The accountant. "Come in."

Mason Sephiroth walked in. He was a strong, handsome guy, but a total pushover…a loser, basically.

"Where's my laundry?" demanded Fetcher.

"I don't have it. I do have _this_ however." He tossed an envelope onto Fetcher's desk.

"What is this?"

"My letter of resignation."

Laughing, Fetcher took his pen and pushed the unopened parcel away from himself. "Let's not do this, Mason."

"I'm serious."

"You're our best accountant here."

"I know."

"Where will _you_ go?"

"I have personal matters I need to attend to."

"So you want to quit because of _that_?"

"Is that a problem?"

"I don't think you'd last a day out of this place."

"I think you're only saying that because you want me to stay."

Fetcher scowled. "I don't need to take this from a loser like you, Mason."

"Is that right?"

"I'm calling security."

"I already took care of them."

Fetcher's eyes widened. "What did you say?"

"I said I already took care of them. They used to pick on me, too, you see. I'm a sensitive guy, Sid. _Real_ sensitive guy. I guess you can say I hold grudges."

"Get the fuck out of my building."

"Nah."

"Mason!" Fetcher roared. "Get out!"

"Open the envelope."

Fetcher pursed his lips.

"Do it, Sid."

"No."

"Open it, please."

Fetcher swallowed hard, then tore the envelope open. Out fell two pictures of very detailed child pornography. Horrified, Fetcher threw them off the desk.

"What the fuck is this?" he cried. "You fucking sick fuck!"

"Relax, man. It's not mine. I don't get off to that stuff. But…_you_ do."

"…w-what?"

"I stashed your home office, at your house, full of this shit. The drawers, the closet, everywhere. I also left a folder of it on the coffee table in the living room. If I assume correctly, your wife will be coming home in ten minutes."

Fetcher paled.

"When she sees your stash, she will call the police. You will go to fucking jail, and in jail, you will get your ass beaten and raped on a daily basis for a very, very long time. Your wife will leave you, and you will be alone. The only love you will have left in your life will be getting plowed up the ass by some burly black man."

"Are you serious?" cried Fetcher. "Why the fuck would you do that?"

Grinning, Mason said, "To get back at you. What will you tell the police, Sid? That one of your employees planted illegal porn in your house? Yeah, that'll go over well."

Tears sprung into Fetcher's eyes. His hands were now shaking.

"However," continued Mason. "I have an alternative for you. Also in that envelope is a well-written suicide note, typed up by yours truly. In the note, 'you' describe your fear at your new fetish, and felt much remorse for the victims of the pictures you have in your home." From his pocket, Mason took out a small pistol and placed it on Fetcher's desk. "You can kill yourself here, now, and die honorably. Also in this note is the man you bought the porn from: Otto Oogie, in Washington D.C. You will be honored instead of hated."

Fetcher stared at the gun.

Mason added, "Also, if you kill me now, you won't save yourself. Hell, you might even get executed. Manslaughter _and_ a stash of illegal pornography? They might just strap you into Ol' Sparky and send your ass to Hell. And you will die a monster."

"Please…don't do this to me."

"It's already been done. Maybe you shouldn't have been such a fucking asshole to me."

"You can't do this!"

"I already have. It's done and over with. Don't you understand?"

"I'll run away. Right now."

"Your wife will come home in five minutes. How do you call her beforehand? 'Honey, that porn on the table _isn't mine_, I'll call you back'…that'll sound good. Also, you think you can evade the police? I've got you by the balls, man. It's over. My revenge is done with. All that matters now is how you go out."

Now Fetcher was crying. He couldn't help it. He oh-so-badly wanted his mother.

"Please…" he said, crying. "Please, I don't wanna die. I don't wanna die. I don't wanna die, Mason, please…please, no…"

"God dammit, Sid, do you want to end up in prison? Jesus! You'll get torn apart in prison!"

"_No no no no…_oh no…"

"End it here, Sid. Here and now."

Sid raised his hands to his face, cowering behind them like a girl afraid of the monster in her closet. Then, he reached one trembling hand and grasped the handgun. Slowly and shakily, he took the pistol, and looked at the clock on his wall. Closing time. Everyone was probably in their cars already.

"Please, Mason, please," he whispered, tears soaking his face. "Please. It can't end this way. It can't."

"It has to."

"It _can't_! Please, Mason! PLEASE MASON, I'M SO FUCKING SCARED!"

"JUST DO IT!" Mason roared.

Sid groaned, pressed the business-end of the gun against his cheek, and pulled the trigger. Blood sprayed the walls behind him.

Sid Fetcher did not die right then, however. The bullet tore the lower half of his face off, but he did not die instantaneously. Instead, he fell to the floor and writhed in pain, clutching at the face he no longer had. Mason looked down at him, head cocked to the side, as if mildly interested.

Through the bloody mass, gnashing teeth and a lolling tongue managed to gasp, "Ma…son…Ma…son…"

"No, my friend," said the accountant coldly. "It's not Mason. It's Sephiroth. And you were the first of many that I'm going to prove myself to in my own unique way." He laughed and grabbed the suicide note off the table, crumpling it up and stuffing it in his pocket. "I might as well tell you now, since you're going to bleed to death anyways…there were no pictures on your coffee table. Not even in your house. You really _are_ a fucking idiot, aren't you? But, then again, I knew you'd fall for it. Wanna know why? Because you're quick to assume the worst in everyone and everything but yourself. That's the truth, 'winner'. Oh, and don't think security will redeem you if they're found - before I bound them, I cut out their eyes and tongues while I wore a ski mask. To the world, you killed yourself for God knows why. When you get to Hell, tell the Devil to make room for more, because wouldn't ya' know it, I seem to be his motherfucking advocate."

Sid did not respond. Halfway through this monologue he had passed away.

Sephiroth laughed and walked out of the office. He took the elevator downstairs. Since he had forced the guards to turn off the cameras, he was not worried of being seen. He left the building, cheerier than ever. Justice had been served, motherfuckers. Badda-boom, badda-bing. A ring-a-ding-ding and all that jazz.

He got into his car and his cell phone began to ring. He picked it up.

"Otto, my man!" he said happily as he started up his car. "I just got done with my resignation."

"Was it fun?"

"Very much so. Felt good to watch that asshole kill himself. I'll fill you in on the details later."

"Wanna lose some pursuit? Come to D.C. for a game of poker?"

"A game of poker with who?"

"Me."

"No, nuh-uh, no way."

"Aww, c'mon! The sound of the dice here is like music in the air. I'm a gambling Boogie-man, you know me!"

"Yeah, although you don't play fucking fair. Do you have any, uh, 'guests' there?"

"Nope."

"Good. Your hobby scares the fucking shit out of me."

Otto agreed, "When you come to my house, if you aren't shaking, there's something very wrong. But I remodeled my entire basement. It's like my own little casino, and I never have anyone to share it with who actually appreciates it. I have my own lair. I fucking _love_ my life, Seph."

"I feel you. I'd dig having my own lair, too. Alright, maybe I'll come by sometime. Not tonight, though. It'd look weird under the circumstances."

"I understand. Believe me, I want to gamble. But I've gotta be careful."

"Alright. I'll see you 'round. When you come over, you can see my lair. I love it more than myself."

"I'll be sure to check it out. See ya'." He hung up, then smiled in amusement.

Then, the smile went away as he remembered Friday's poker game.

That asshole Shinra had been friends with Fetcher. Fetcher recommended Sephiroth in order to square off some old debt. Shinra had used Mason, a "filthy commoner" as he put it, to get rid of his responsibilities over HertzPress, a dying European company. Mason had spent the entire weekend, day and night, not a single moment stopping to eat, drink, or sleep, trying to get in contact with someone from Europe who might want to buy. Eventually, after much stress, Mason actually began _vomiting_ over the phone, keeping a bucket next to him. Through puke and migraines, he eventually made a business deal with an Italian named Scapelli to take 80% of his share the company. However, as Mason was _praying_ to get rid of the company's burden, he could not merely just sell it. It required surplus payment. And so, Mason had to sell his house, personal belongings, property, and he would still have to pay the Italian off, along with be responsible for 20% of HertzPress should it fail. That 20% was given to Otto immediately, as Otto would know what to do with it, and in return for his assistance in ensuring Mason got his brother's fortune. Poor Mason had been promised a game of poker where the stakes were unbelievably high. When he had won the hand against both Shinra and Fair, he had been so unbelievably happy. In that brief moment, he had imagined himself on a beach somewhere, kicking back and enjoying life with his millions. Maybe meet a Hawaiian broad, fall in love, have children and give them good lives.

But he hadn't been given that. Instead, he had been taken advantage of _again._ His pride had been stripped away along with his belongings.

Which is why Mason Sephiroth then did what he did best: schemed. And he came up with a perfect plan. It was actually written in his mind's eye, and he repeated it to himself.

Part 1: Lay low in a hotel for a while.

Part 2: Travel to D.C., stay with Otto.

Part 3: Reacquaint self with his nephew, _precious_ Chris Strife Jr.  
>Part 4: Kill Strife's entire family, make it look like an accident.<p>

Part 5: Inherit his asshole brother's fortune.  
>Part 6: Use wealth to pay off debts.<br>Part 7: Make a business arrangement with 'Someone' and Otto.

Which led to the last act of his ploy, which was by far his favorite one:

Part 8: Use newly found power to torture and kill Julian Fair and Rufus Shinra.

It was a good plan, Mason thought.

Especially that last part.

* * *

><p>Sora and Kairi walked out of the local movie theater together, laughing and holding hands. Sora was glad to have this night with her, as they had not seen each other like this for quite a while. They walked down the street, arm-in-arm, slowly sobering from their laughs. Eventually, deciding they were thirsty, they walked into a small coffee shop and ordered two coffees. They sat by the window, watching people pass by.<p>

Sora asked, "So how's life at the office?"

"Not bad. Takes a lot of my time up, which sucks because personally, I don't give a rat's ass whether or not Ethan Truman makes it into office."

Sora laughed. "Oh, I like you."

"I like me, too. How's school been going?"

"Meh."

"I feel ya'."

"It's hard being a new kid."

"Again; I feel ya'. How's Riku doing?"

"I don't know, really," said Sora sadly. "I think he's a bit upset over that Aqua-woman."

"Fuck that tramp."

"Christ, Kairi…"

"I'll never apologize for calling her that, Sora. She's a damn tramp. From what Mick and Riku told us, she's a pretentious bitch. All this 'you don't know me'…it's crap. And she's hurting Riku, who I love like a brother, with it."

"I understand. Hey, Kairi?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Sure. Lay it on me, homie." She grinned.

"Did you ever have feelings for Riku?"

Her grin faded. "Nah," she said. "I don't think he'd make as good of a boyfriend as you do."

Sora smiled and leaned over the table and kissed her.

"But I _do_ love him," she continued.

"Me, too. But he's gone a little weird since he was rejected. Looking for action constantly. He always has his Keyblade on him."

"Am I the only one that finds it weird that two best friends both got Keyblades, one of the rarest things on Earth?"

"No, you are not. It's a very weird co-ink-a-dink."

"Well, it's saved us a thousand times."

"I know! It helped us with everything, from finding out things to fighting at the Hotel…" His voice trailed off.

Kairi whispered, "Let's not talk about that, please."

"No, I…" He gulped. "No, Kairi, I'm sorry…but I have to. It _happened_."

"Sora, I can't. Do you know how that night makes me feel? Awful. Just…awful. I drove my former friend into insanity and now he's our arch-nemesis and one of our main targets."

"I-"

"Did you see his eyes that night, Sora? Did you get a good look? I did that."

"You can't be blamed," said Sora, indignant. "That guy Fender has issues, Kairi."

"I know. Those issues are _me_."

"No! No, not like that. No way."

"Do you have any idea what it's like to create a monster like that? Don't deny it Sora; this ordeal with the Organization will end with either us or them being brutally killed by the other."

"Not necessarily. If we can find Zeke and arrest him…get him help…"

Kairi growled, "I think I'd like to go home now, please."

Sighing, Sora said, "Alright. I'm sorry, Kairi."

"It's fine."

They got up and walked out of the coffee shop. This time, as they walked, they did not hold hands. The two walked in silence down the dark streets as the universe full of stars twinkled above them. The moon's pale face was full and bright tonight, and Sora marveled its beauty as he walked with his hands in his pocket, forlorn at the way things were with he and his girlfriend…or was she his girlfriend? They had not uttered the words "I love you" for what felt like a very long time. They seldom went out on dates, and when they did, like tonight, it'd always end up being close to silent.

And not for the first time, Sora had a worry that perhaps he had rushed into his relationship with Kairi too quickly. That the feelings he had when he first met her were just spur-of-the-moment, nothing more. It pained him to think that. And he had to let it out.

"Kairi," he began. "Look, I-"

Suddenly, a shadowy figure stepped out from a nearby alleyway. In his large hand was a lead pipe.

From the alleyway behind the young couple came two more men, one with a knife and the other with a splintery two-by-four with a rusty nail sticking out of it.

"You Kairi O'Cooper?" asked the man in front of them.

"What's it to you?" asked Sora harshly.

"Take a hike, kid. Or we'll beat your ass to death."

Kairi put a hand on Sora's shoulder, then answered, "Yes, you gorilla. I'm Kairi O'Cooper. Why?"

"You need to come with us right now."

"Says who?"

"Says us."

"Who's _us_?"

"I've had enough of this shit!" cried one man from behind, the one with the knife. "C'mere, you little bitch!"

He took a step forward. Sora turned and drew the Keyblade from his pocket, and one motion later the man was cut open and dead, blood splattered on the sidewalk.

Frightened, the man with the two-by-four raised his own weapon and ran at Sora, but took a step back when Sora viciously swung the Keyblade in his direction. Sora turned to see the first man wrestling with Kairi, who did not go so quietly; Sora watched in amazement as Kairi kneed her would-be captor right in the groin, then deliver a karate chop-esque hand movement directly to his throat. The man went down, holding his throat and gurgling.

The man with the two-by-four ran at Sora again, so this time Sora ran his Keyblade right through him. The man dropped the two-by-four, looked down at the hilt of the Keyblade protruding from his chest, gave one bloody choke, and died standing up. Sora pulled his blade from the man, whose corpse fell beside his buddy's.

Sora then pointed the tip of the blade at the coughing and spluttering leader's nose. The man went cross-eyed looking at the alien weapon.

"Who sent you?" Sora demanded coldly.

The man spat.

Sora scowled and repeated, "Who sent you? If you don't tell me now, I'll run this thing through you. Don't believe me? Look at your friends."

The man said nothing.

"Fine." Sora holstered the Keyblade, then pulled out his cell phone to make a call.

"Mick speaking."

"Hey, Mickey."

"Sora! What's up, fella?"

"I need your help. Some goons just attacked me and Kairi. Only one is still alive. Can you call Don or Goof' to come take him into the station?"

"'fraid Don and Goofy were replaced yesterday, Sora. Truman didn't necessarily like them. Two asshole brothers, Flotsam and Jetsam, took their jobs. Maybe you should call the police."

"I killed two of them with the Keyblade."

"Then we have a problem here. Who sent them?"

"The survivor won't tell."

"Well, then, kill him."

"Uhh, no. He's defenseless right now."

"Then knock him out and walk away. Go home, the both of you."

"Okay. Sounds good. Thanks, Mickey."

"Anytime."

Sora hung up the phone and proceeded to use the hilt of his Keyblade to clobber the man upon the head. A second later, the ambusher was out cold.

"Let's get outta here," said Sora.

They walked quickly through alleyways until they got to Kairi's apartment building.

Yawning, Kairi gave Sora a hug and said, "Be safe, alright?"

"_You_ be safe. They came after you."

"I'll be fine. I'm going to Manhattan tomorrow for Truman. I should be safe on the train outta here."

"Okay. I…I love you."

Kairi gave him a warm smile, hugged him again, then turned and walked into the building.

Sora scowled after her, as that was not the response he had expected, nor wanted.

* * *

><p><strong>Yep, hope you enjoyed. I'll work diligently as always, but...finals are here so yeah.<strong>

**Has a nice day from the both of us. :D  
><strong>


	5. Freedom Costs One Sanity

**Hello everybody. Haji here with another chapter. Just shifting the focus a little bit so you can understand a lot of different things.**

**Don't know if anyone cares, but my final production show day was a success. *Huzzah***

**Enjoy, yo.  
><strong>

* * *

><p>I couldn't even begin to fathom what was happening to me. The last thing I remember was falling out of that car and being helped. I also remember vomiting repeatedly like a weak-stomached fool. I was so scared and angry that I could not pull myself together.<p>

They kept asking me what happened. They kept asking me what I had seen, what I had done to survive, what the killers looked like. I was disoriented, and I kept trying to keep them away from me, not realizing at the time that I was safe already. My body knew I was safe, but the primal fear that had consumed me for God knows how long was still there. It was still pumping through my body in an effort to get me to move. However, I was far too tired, and I had already given up.

"Sir?"

The sirens. Oh, how the sirens pummeled my eardrums with their wailing, and the bright lights they flashed in my eyes blinded me. I kept fighting back, though it was half hearted and fading.

"Sir, can you understand what I am saying?"

"Please," I begged. "Please, take me away. Please…my head."

"Sir, do you know where you are?"

I paled. "Scranton."

"What year is it?"

I knew what they were doing. As a reporter, I knew they were trying to determine if I was coherent enough to be questioned. I reached for the back of my head, and whimpered when I felt my blood. That meant it had not been a dream. I really was dying. I really was.

"Who gives a fuck?" I murmured, losing my will again.

The man who had spoken to me, who I was assuming was a paramedic, had me lifted onto a stretcher and carried away. It was at that moment, that I closed my eyes and passed out.

* * *

><p>When I opened my eyes, I knew I was in the hospital. Well, that wasn't entirely true. I didn't have to open my eyes to know where I was. I could smell the disinfectants and I could hear the cries of agony. It was Hell.<p>

When I did look around though, one of the first things I noticed was that I was sharing a room with about fifteen other people. The ones who were awake looked shaken, and the ones who had not yet opened their eyes looked dead. I vaguely wondered who they were, and then it occurred to me that they might be people who had survived the attack.

"What's going on?" I asked quietly. I moved to get out of the bed, but my hands had been handcuffed to the sides. "What is this?"

A woman about my age spoke up. Her hair hung in her eyes, clean, but unkempt. "They want to talk to us." She sounded so hollow. "The police. They want us to tell them what we saw."

I shuddered, thinking the exact same thing that I was sure everyone else was. We could never tell anybody what we saw. Not only would they not believe us, but if they did have the scope of imagination it took to process the truth, they would surely go mad.

I could barely keep my mind's eye from reliving it. Every time I blinked, a flash of gray skin or jagged metal teeth would burn into my eyelids. A lithe twist in movement, or an otherworldly spring through the air. Monsters.

"Why are they keeping us chained?"

The woman grinned, obviously traumatized in the worst way. "They think we'll kill them. Post Traumatic Stress. They don't want to chance us losing our minds. But, we already have."

When she laughed, I felt shivers go up my spine. Something was not right about her. She was crazy, but I was sure that she had not been before today, no, she looked like somebody who had just recently crossed that line into insanity. I couldn't blame her.

"Good morning, everybody."

Every person who had enough will to turn and look at our guest did. It was a doctor. A young one at that. He wore these comical green scrubs that reminded me of the military movies where the doctor discovers something during a clinical trial. And he was a chipper fuck, grinning stupidly, like he was trying to convey some sort of false merriment.

Suddenly I was angry, and hated that man more than anything. I wanted him to die, and I wished those monsters were here to kill him, so I could sleep in the warmth of his blood. And, just as soon as that anger had surfaced, it dissipated. My body panicked. Where had that come from?

"My name is Dr. Murphy. I work for the government, and I will be looking over you for a little while." He grinned wider. "How does that sound?"

When he had first come in, I wanted to kill him. And now that he had informed us that we were being studied—because that's what he really meant—I wanted to kill him even more. But, not just kill him, eat him, too. And that thought sickened me.

"When can we go home?" I asked. Dr. Murphy looked at me, narrowing his eyes slightly.

"What's your name?"

I shook my head. "It doesn't matter. When can we leave? I have a job."

That wasn't true anymore either. I had decided that I was going to quit as soon as I had sacrificed Brian. He had wanted me to go after Julian Fair, and I hadn't planned on fulfilling his "revenge". But, after what I had done, I had to, even if it was just to redeem myself in my own eyes. At least, as much as I could for being such a selfish, desperate, idiot.

Dr. Murphy blinked a couple of times. "You can go home, as soon as we determine that you are healthy enough to leave."

"We're fine," said the woman I had spoken to earlier. "Look, we can talk and think and everything. They were only a bunch of…killers."

She hadn't told him the truth. As far as I could gather from nurses gossiping about our room, the rest of the world didn't know what had actually happened. Only that killers had massacred the mall. Oh, how their assumptions could not be father from the truth. I was also assuming that the government was moving in because they either knew what had attacked us, or were so afraid of what really happened that they were going to try and cover it up without having any knowledge of what they were up against. Either way, that didn't really sit well with me.

I felt trapped. Both by my memories, and by this man, who was probably only doing this for money, but that didn't matter to me. They all had my scorn.

"So, who would like to talk about what happened?"

I turned my head away. I wasn't going to say a word. I couldn't. I literally could not put it into words. My job had been to write in a previous life. I only say previous because that old me was dead, devoured by the jaws of inhumanity and fear. This new me wasn't that outspoken and ambitious. This new me was scared and angry, and wanted to hide. This new me was vicious. Evil.

Did I care?

Not in the least, but I had to get out.

"You want to know what happened?"

I turned away from Dr. Murphy to an older man. He already seemed feeble, and from what I could see in my restrained position, he had only been bitten, maybe scratched. He was pissed though. There was a ravenous evil in his eyes—no doubt one that I shared—that startled the good doctor. There was poison in his words.

"There was an attack on the Steamtown Mall today, or yesterday, or whenever it was because you must have drugged us for some time."

"It was only to protect your bodies," Dr. Murphy said quickly. "You all suffered from seizures due to stress. The only way to keep you alive was to place you in a medically induced coma."

Then the feeble older man blinked, completely unfazed by the doctor's confession. "It was a normal day, and then there was chaos. People screaming, and running around. Killers like you've never seen before swarmed us and just decimated anybody who came within range.

"They were fast, like jackrabbits, jumping around using acrobatics. They could catch anyone, and they ripped us apart and fed on us. And when we tried to run, we were toyed with. They laughed at us, and trapped us. They…they…"

I wanted to stop him. He wasn't even scratching the surface of what those monsters were. I knew what he was trying to do though. He was trying to rationalize his fear. Trying to make those monsters seem more human so that he wouldn't be so scared of them. But, I think it was having the opposite effect, for the tension in the room increased, and he could barely find the will to continue. I think it was better if he stopped.

Dr. Murphy, though feigning concern, was actually more intrigued by what the feeble older man had told him. Obviously, he was only seeing this as a complicated guessing game.

"What did they look like?" he asked after a moment of tense silence. "The killers. Surely they wore some kind of clothing. Something that may have given away what kind of terrorist organization they worked for."

I frowned and struggled in my handcuffs. "What makes you so sure they were terrorists?"

I was honestly curious. I mean, there was nothing really that warranted a "terrorist" label. Of course, they didn't know that gray monsters from the deepest annals of human fear had destroyed the mall, but I found it mildly annoying and a tad bit funny that they would instantly assume that it was the work of a terrorist organization. If they didn't know who it was, it was a terrorist.

Dr. Murphy grunted. "Well, we_ would _know if you would just tell us, you know. In all honesty, we don't know if it's terrorists. But, we are certain that they were smart, organized, and are capable of killing many people in a short amount of time. With that kind of information, I would think it would be reasonable to assume that it's the work of terrorists. But, please, prove me otherwise."

The woman with the unkempt hair smirked. "Sure, if you fuck me first."

That caught me off guard. I think that caught Dr. Murphy off guard too. But, she laughed shrilly, and threw what looked like a psychotic fit in her bed. I instantly didn't like her any more. She was too crazy for my liking. However, what really disgusted me was the look on Dr. Murphy's face. He looked pleased that she would even make an offer like that.

"What's your name?"

The woman smiled. "Claire."

"Well, Claire, you are certainly a dirty girl."

Was that his way of accepting that offer for sex?

Fucking disgusting man.

I cringed inside and wished death upon the both of them. I had no idea where my hateful thoughts had come from. I just knew that he did not deserve to live, and she deserved it even less. And suddenly, this pit formed in my heart, and an endless hunger took a hold of me. I couldn't believe how hard it had hit me.

"I'm hungry," I blurted.

Dr. Murphy smiled. "Hungry, you say?"

"Yeah, I just fucking said that."

"Well…you won't tell me your name."

I growled at him. Actually, to be more accurate, I roared at him. I can't quite recall what I had said to him, but I remember a very violent and graphic death being a part of it. I could only think about my stomach. It was twisting over itself in agony, begging for food. And almost as soon as I had closed my mouth, Dr. Murphy unlocked my handcuffs and led me down a hallway.

The hospital was starting to look more and more like a tunnel, and I realized almost instantly that I was under some kind of quarantine. What was going on?

"Listen…whatever your name is," Dr. Murphy started. "You and fifteen other people have been placed under a temporary quarantine."

"Why?"

Dr. Murphy frowned. "Because, when the police cleared the mall of all that gelatinous black substance, we found something strange. Something that we're not quite sure what it is. You seem to be the most coherent out of the ones who survived. We hope that you will be able to help us."

"I'm starving."

"Yes, you can eat first," Dr. Murphy said. "Then we'll go to the boxcar."

I swallowed audibly, but did not say anything back. If he was talking about the very same thing I was dreading, and would forever dread, then he must have found one of the creatures. The very one I had trapped. But, if he had seen it, why would he still ask about the killer? Maybe he hadn't seen it yet. Then why were we here?

I was lost and confused and angry. But that anger gave way to hunger as soon as I was led to a makeshift lunchroom. There were two tables lined with food. Sandwiches, fruits, and cheese. I waited, trying to fight this itch in my stomach.

"We've been observing you and a couple of others who seem to be exhibiting strange behavior. Fits of violence, complaints of starvation, insatiable sexual appetites—"

"Where was I for all of this?"

Dr. Murphy frowned and continued without hesitation. "Loss of memory, aggressive possessiveness and the list goes on."

I blinked. I would have remembered being in a place like this for more than a few hours. I would have realized that I was being held against my will. I gripped my stomach in pain and doubled over.

"I've had the pleasure of watching you specifically, the way you just eat yourself into a semi coma when given the chance."

I ignored him and slithered over to the table. Surely I would have been committing one of the most deadly sins as I ate. I just could not seem to not be hungry. I would eat at least three times as much as I would have dared to eat in front of a complete stranger, but that was not enough for me. I had to have more. I became greedy and gluttonous—to the point where I vomited—but, still, I did not stop.

"It's very unusual that you are acting like this." Dr. Murphy paced around the room. "I remember, you told me that you would have never done this normally. Which brings me to a conclusion that you are sick. You appear fine though. You have no feverish temperatures, no clammy skin, no sweats."

I wiped my mouth and glared at the food in front of me. I didn't want to continue eating, but I was still so hungry, and—I had noticed—slightly aroused. I shook my head and forced myself to drop the sandwich I had been determined to eat. Dr. Murphy only smiled as he watched me. I instantly felt so vulnerable and I turned around.

"What is wrong with you?"

I pursed my lips. "Let me go."

Dr. Murphy shook his head. "I can't do that. You need to help me understand what is happening."

I tensed up. "The boxcar."

"What did you do?"

I shivered. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Dr. Murphy folded his arms. "You were muttering about the boxcar. Something inside the boxcar. I want to know what it is. It might have something to do with the weird things we found in the mall."

"I don't know what—"

"Stop lying to me!"

Dr. Murphy took a threatening step towards me, and I lashed out at him, leaping forward and punching him as hard as I could in the face. I didn't hear any crunching, but I felt his jaw move under my fist. I was victorious, until my body realized it couldn't function with so much extra weight. I retreated into the farthest corner and vomited as quietly as I could. The smell was horrifying, however I didn't care. I felt much better, ravenous again, but better.

I hesitated moving from the false safety of my corner. It was like my human instinct was fighting something else that was trying to posses my body. Something mindlessly violent and hyper. I was sick, I could feel it.

Dr. Murphy stood, rubbing his jaw. He was bleeding a little; I must have done some damage. He didn't approach me, but he pointed to a door. His smirk was undeniably scheming. He knew I was trapped because—as I was sure_ he_ knew—there was probably some kind of security waiting outside. If he said we were under quarantine, then the military was involved somehow. That door probably led to freedom, but it also led to gunshots or tear gas. Or something worse.

"What do you want from me?"

Dr. Murphy smiled. "I want to know what made you so sick. I'm sure that whatever is in the boxcar is the source of your madness. You were the only one talking about it."

I gulped nervously.

"I haven't told them about it," Dr. Murphy assured me. "I know that whatever is in there is special. And I would never get the chance to see it if I told them about it. I want to know what it is."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do."

"No, really, you don't." I shook. "It's horrible."

Dr. Murphy laughed. "That's funny. I would consider it amazing. Perhaps whatever is in there could be worth a lot of money. Obviously it carries some kind of biological weapon if it killed so many people."

"But, you thought it was serial killers…"

I'd admit that I was confused, but it occurred to me that maybe he was just fucking with me, and that he knew exactly what it was that he was doing. Manipulating me into doing what he wanted because I was ignorant to what it was he really did know. This pissed me off. He was using me for his own enjoyment. He probably knew that the boxcar held something inhuman. If he didn't know, then he was a damn good guesser, and wanted me to go with him, so he could see what it was capable of.

Dr. Murphy laughed louder. "That's ridiculous. I'm a man of logic and reason, but you do not seriously think that I would believe that a team of _humans_ did this, do you? Sure, that's what they told me, but I don't believe it. Not for one second. Humans are not capable of doing something so heinous. Even the most twisted psycho wouldn't dream of this. I saw the devastation with my own eyes. This was not a human's work."

I was silent.

"But, I do know that _you _know what it is. And I know that it is in a boxcar." Dr. Murphy paused. "So, I'll tell you what. You take me to that boxcar, and I'll get you out of here."

Silent.

"All I have to do is tell them that you're okay and they'll let you go. Your freedom rests solely with me."

I wanted freedom. I really wanted freedom. I wanted to get away from this place and go as far away from Scranton-fucking-Pennsylvania as soon as I possibly could. I hated this fucking place. So, without hesitation, I nodded. Because I would not only get my freedom, but I would also get rid of Dr. Murphy, provided that the gray creature was still alive.

"Fine."

Dr. Murphy opened the door he had been pointing at. "Lead the way."

* * *

><p>In order for me to find the boxcar I had trapped that creature in, I had to start at the boardwalk. The train car that had been there before was gone, probably moved at some point after I had left it. I could still see the footprints from when Brian had pushed me to run and leave him. I could see where his blood had been when he was ripped open, and the drag marks from when I had moved him.<p>

I walked slowly, frightened by my memories as I heard his screaming when his leg was shattered, the fear in his voice when he refused to jump from the boardwalk until the last minute, and the ringing when my head slammed into the metal of the train. Dr. Murphy seemed excited, and he kept egging me on.

As soon as the drag marks ended, there was a pool of blood. It had dried, and there was evidence of small animals passing through it. It was an eerie sight, seeing the tiny tracks of mice around it.

"Is this it?"

I nodded solemnly. "But, you can't open this door."

"Why not?"

I glanced at him. "You really want to see what's in there? Then you don't open the side door. There's an opening on top that you can look through. If you open the side door, it will escape."

"Then, let's go."

I waited. I didn't want to knock on the boxcar while he was standing there. It would look suspicious, but I needed to know if that thing was still alive. As Dr. Murphy climbed up the ladder, I followed, and kicked the metal as I went. I stopped briefly and pressed my ear to the car, thinking that I would be able to hear something.

To my relief, I heard a quiet knock back. It was weak, but it was there. My guess is that the creature was on its last legs of life. After all, it had probably been starving for a while. I felt this warped sympathy for it. I could relate now. It was dying, and in so much pain, begging for food and probably very pissed off.

Dr. Murphy helped me over the edge of the boxcar. Like I had said, there was a door opening; a chute for loading coal, rocks, and other such cargo. It was barely cracked, jammed open from rusting for so long. I didn't move. Though I felt sympathy for that hideous creature inside the boxcar, I still feared it and would not want to release it because it probably hated me.

"Open it."

I didn't move.

"Open it."

I still didn't move. I felt the metal underneath my feet tremble, and there was a soft tapping that echoed in the air. Dr. Murphy grew more excited.

"It's in there, isn't it?" He kicked the door, and a puff of rusty metal flakes stuck to his shoes. "Open it! Now!"

"I can't…"

He looked at me like I was stupid. "What do you mean you can't? You want your freedom?"

I shivered noticeably. Already, its teeth were chomping on my face, its gray appendages were tearing my skin, and it was feasting on my flesh. I couldn't release it knowing what it could do. I couldn't let that happen. Not after what it did to Brian.

"God damnit! Open this fucking door!"

I pushed Dr. Murphy back. "You don't have any idea what this thing is. It will rip you apart, eat your guts, and puke it back up in your face. It will chew on you until you are nothing more than a pulsating glob of bloodied mess, where it will squat and shit on you. You have no fucking idea!"

Dr. Murphy pushed me back. "Well, obviously, it isn't that advanced to mock me like that if it couldn't even kill you. If it's so fucking scary, why are you still alive?"

I stopped. That was a good question. It had sliced through Brian without hesitation, and Brian was bigger than me. I was defenseless against it, and could not fight except when pumped full of adrenaline. So, if it could so easily kill whoever it wanted, how come I was still here? Shouldn't have I been killed?

"I don't know."

Dr. Murphy snorted. "You probably hid like a pansy. You were a coward just like everybody else. Whatever is in here, it's probably just some stupid animal."

That shouldn't have bothered me. I wouldn't have minded being a coward, not in this situation. In fact, I wish I had been. It was the way he was calling me a coward, like I was like that all the time and not just when my world is being massacred around me. He was directly insulting me. And that was the last straw.

I feared the monster. There was not a doubt in my mind about that. However, I had to believe that it could understand me before I could do the unthinkable and face my fear.

I didn't even blink before shoving Dr. Murphy again. I ripped open the rusted top door and backed away from the entrance. The smell was mind-numbing. A rancid wave of rotted flesh and runny stool. I nearly vomited on the spot, but I held it for as long as I could. Dr. Murphy regained his balance quickly. I was certain that he was going to fall over the edge and break his back, but I had miscalculated the distance between him and the edge of the boxcar.

But it didn't matter anymore.

Just like I had expected, a skinny gray appendage reached out from the darkness of the boxcar. Dr. Murphy stared at it, anticipating a show, but when he saw the creature, he paled. "What the…"

With just as much agility and grace that struck fear into my soul, the creature launched itself out of the boxcar. It was noticeably weakened, sagging slightly. It had lost a lot of its mass from starvation, and it looked almost as if it were going to drop dead at any moment. It looked right at me first, baring its jagged metal teeth and hissing. I thought for a moment that it was going to kill me and flee, but then it turned away.

"Oh my God," Dr. Murphy breathed. "It's amazing."

The creature swayed from side to side, and in a single bound, it bowled Dr. Murphy over the edge of the boxcar and to the ground. He screamed, and just like every other human being that had died at the hands of this creature before him, it was a chilling sound. It was silenced after a second. I didn't bother to look over to see if he was being torn apart because I could hear the ripping of his flesh and the hurried, gluttonous slurps of the creature eating.

I sank to my knees. How could I do something so horrible? How could I release that creature, knowing that it was only going to take a few more hours for it to finally die? It was because I wasn't the same anymore. I had realized that I was different because I had been spared a torturous death, and that these things did not want me dead for whatever reason.

The creature did not come back up to get me. I waited for a long time, thinking of how painful it was going to be to die. The air grew chillier, and it occurred to me that it was the dead of night. I hadn't been aware of it before, for I had been too focused on what I was going to do about my freedom and how I was going to kill my captor. But now that I was alone, it became fearfully obvious.

My only option was to run away. Scranton was surrounded by forests, just like every other part of Boondocks-Pennsylvania. It would be a perfect place to hide until I could make it to a smaller town. I climbed down the side of the boxcar, skirted around Dr. Murphy's ravaged body, and fled down a set of train tracks that lead north.

I did not see the creature. I did not hear it or smell it, or feel it following me in my gut. I truly was alone. Starving. And alone.

* * *

><p>I don't know how long I had been following those train tracks. The sun had risen and it was well into the day before I came across anything.<p>

It was a car. It looked like it had been abandoned, but I was wary. I had written plenty of articles about couples being killed out in the woods by homeless hitchhikers. If this was one of those days, I was not going to take any chances. I stopped.

The slipper socks that Dr. Murphy had provided during my care were torn from the rocks on the tracks. They were barely hanging onto my feet. I was thankful that they had at least put me in acceptable clothing; otherwise I'd be frozen solid already.

Suddenly, that car started moving slightly. Rocking from side to side rhythmically. I groaned. It was a couple fucking. It had to be. There was nothing more romantic that taking your loved one out into the middle of nowhere to be loved.

I wanted to ignore them, just walk by without bothering them because they were obviously busy, but I also needed a faster way to get where I needed to go. Walking wasn't going to be enough, and I was so tired already. I was willing to take my chances and ask for help. So, without a second thought, I walked up to the car—whose windows had begun to steam up—and tapped on the window.

"Oh, shit!"

The man inside cried out and tried to move into a position so that his genitals were covered, and he didn't look like he was doing anything wrong. It wasn't like I could see him anyway, but he still shifted for a while before he answered my knock.

"What the fuck do you want?"

"I need your help," I said. "I need to get into town but I lost my way."

"Get out of here!"

"Please, I need your help."

Silence. I assumed he was getting dressed, since he wouldn't be able to make me leave without getting out of the car. And he wouldn't be able to get out of the car without dressing himself. He was going to kick my ass.

The car door opened, and a very large, muscular man slid out looking more than a little pissed. To be honest, he was huge. Much bigger than I thought he was going to be since I, at one time, believed that only fat rapists took their girls out into the woods to be fucked. I think I would have preferred a rapist.

"What the fuck is you doin' out here?" His voice was deep and it rattled my ribcage. Seriously, this guy could bench-press a bus. "Can't you see I'm busy?"

"Yes, and I'm so sorry, but I need a ride into town." I figured if I played nice and chose my words carefully, I could get some help without totally losing my mind. "Could you help me out?"

"Honey?"

I looked around the man. Just inside the car, fully nude, was one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen in my life. She was slender and her hair was slightly mussed from what little satisfaction she did get. I didn't even know this woman, but I instantly knew that I wanted her.

"Listen, buddy, I can't help you."

"Why not?"

The man growled. "Because I'm fucking right now. Get the fuck out of here, or I'll kick your ass."

The way this man was threatening me did not make me happy. It felt a lot like the way Dr. Murphy had spoken to me. He made me feel small and inferior, even though my average intelligence could strip him to the bone. This made me angry, and just like the way I had wanted to kill Dr. Murphy, I wanted to kill him. And fuck his girlfriend.

When I didn't move, the man spoke up again. "Did you hear me?"

"I heard you."

I wasn't going to leave without a fight. Obviously he wanted one. And I was getting hyped up. I don't know where the sudden energy came from, but I wanted to kill and eat this man, fuck his girlfriend, and run around. My mind could find no logical reason for wanting these things. I had not had these desires before.

The next thing I knew, that man, without any provocation whatsoever, hit me. My first instinct was to bite him, break his skin and make him bleed. However, I was acutely aware that I could not take him on fisticuffs. I had to get creative. I wanted to play. Jump around. It was peculiar how my mind wanted things that were unimportant, and how my body reacted to wanting those things. It was like I had no control over who I was anymore. I was mindlessly impulsive.

And I was fast too.

I wasted no time grabbing anything I could throw and hurling it straight at the man's face. I took a sick pleasure in the way he crumpled underneath of me and I danced around him as he tried to pull himself together. I loved the way he tried to grab me and I would get away from him. And he would get angry and I would laugh at him openly. But, he tackled me as I passed in front of him, and I scratched and bit at him mercilessly—like I had seen those gray creatures do before—until I had torn the skin around his neck.

I snapped back to my reality when a splash of blood warmed my cheeks. I was freaking out as I realized that I had pierced his jugular and he was bleeding out on top of me. I heard his girlfriend scream in the car and I panicked. I just killed this man for no reason other than for my own enjoyment. How could I do that?

I stopped, and the man gurgled angrily until he died. I was tempted to eat him, and for a short period of time, I seriously considered it. However, my humanity—or what was left of it because I certainly did not feel wholly human anymore—would not allow me to cross that line. It churned my stomach into a wretched knot and I felt too sick with myself to devour this stranger.

"Oh my God!"

I pushed the man's body with my all my strength and wormed out from underneath him. He was dead for sure. His girlfriend was crying and dressing herself messily, attempting to flee before I could kill her. But I didn't want to kill her. She was important to me. I didn't know why, nor did I care, I just felt this natural attraction to her, this natural need to be inside her.

I leapt up.

She tried to climb out of the car, but I pushed her back in. As soon as I made eye contact with her, I could smell her fertility. I couldn't quite describe it. It was like a ripened banana covered in fresh pine needles and burned salt. Just a powerful musk that I need to have.

"Please, don't kill me," she begged. "I'll do whatever you want."

I stared at her for a long time. Her smell was taking me over. What was this?

"On your back," I muttered.

The woman sniffed, ready to burst into tears. She knew what was about to come, and so did I. That need to lay her grew more powerful and as soon as she lay back, I jumped on top of her, pulling my pants down as fast as my jittery movements would let me. I was getting over excited and that need to run was getting stronger, but not as strong as my need to fuck her.

She didn't scream or beg for mercy like I was expecting her to since I was technically raping her without intending to. She kind of just zoned out, but I didn't care. And—to my surprise—even though I had this internal instinct to reproduce with her, I was gentle, like for me to deliver my sperm into her body was a careful process that had to be precise. My goal—though totally unaware of it consciously—was to impregnate her and when I came, I lifted her bottom into the air and held her in that position for about ten minutes before letting her down.

I stared at her the entire time. I needed to covey that human apology to her, and I wished I could have told her what would possess me to do something that my morals hated but my instincts were accepting with open arms. I wish I could have actually told her that I was sorry for violating her the way I had, but I could not form the words. So, I remained silent.

But, I did take the car. I had left her out in the woods because once I had done what my body was telling me to, I needed to follow it until it told me to stop, and it was now demanding food, ungodly amounts of it. I drove for a while, pulling over sometimes to let that excruciating pain in my abdomen subside for a little bit before continuing. My mind turned instantly to the quest for something to put in my stomach. It didn't even matter what it actually was at that point. I would have eaten just about anything. Even human flesh.

Thankfully, I came across a diner while on my way to wherever—because I had gotten myself lost after a while—and I turned into the parking lot. There were only a couple other cars in the lot, and I parked messily. I stopped the engine, left the keys in the ignition and entered the diner. There was nothing unusual about it; it was just some run down place that probably had the "best pie in town" and a snarky waitress named Debbie.

* * *

><p>Well, her name was Debbie, but she definitely wasn't snarky. In fact, she was very kind and didn't at all look at me funny when I ordered six different entrees with unusual requests as to how I wanted it cooked. It was strange. She had that same ripened bananas and pine needles smell, and I forgot that I was starving for just a second until she brought me out my first plate.<p>

It took me all of maybe five minutes to scarf it down. And then she brought me a second one, and then a third. All of it was consumed greedily, though I tried not to make a mess as I gorged myself. After that, I stood up, locked myself in the bathroom, and vomited it all back up.

What the fuck was happening to me?

I punched the side of the stall in frustration. I was so confused. I just couldn't control my body anymore. I was losing my mind and raping women for no reason other than to impregnate them. I was eating uncontrollably and puking it back up and then stuffing myself again just because I could. My impulses were taking over my entire existence. All I wanted was food, sex, and to run around for days on end. I growled under my breath and punched the stall again.

"Hello? Sir?"

That was Debbie. I could smell her from in here. She sounded concerned.

"Are you okay, sir?"

I frowned. I wanted her so badly in the same way I had wanted that woman out in the woods. She smelled fertile to me. There was no other way to put it. That's what she smelled like. But, I grit my teeth and tried to ignore it as best as I could.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Just losing my fucking mind.

I cracked the door open and peered out. Debbie had left, and I sidled out and back to my booth, where a hot plate of food was sitting there for me. And a stranger.

He was a black man, with these cat-like eyes that read wisdom for centuries. I instantly was fearful of the man, though there was no real justification behind it. It was like he knew there was something wrong with me, but he understood what it was. I think what really scared me is that he looked like he was looking for me specifically.

"Hello," he said. "Please, have a seat."

I was inclined to believe he was benevolent. Though he scared the living daylights out of me for no discernable reason, his voice made me listen to him. Another uncontrollable impulse. Something I couldn't quite fully explain—even to myself.

"Who the fuck are you?"

The man smiled and folded his hands together. Debbie came back over and pulled out her book. That urge to fuck her washed over me again. I turned away from her.

"What can I get you, sir?"

The man smiled. "Just a cup of coffee, Debbie." He looked back at me. "Oh, and a slice of that delicious looking pecan pie I saw in the display case. Thank you."

Debbie quickly poured the coffee and delivered the pie. The man thanked her each time. I found it calming the way he spoke. It was slightly unnerving that I was not freaking out that a complete stranger decided to dine with me, especially since I wanted to run forever, which wasn't helping.

"How did you get all the way out here?"

Was he seriously asking me that? Then I remembered I was supposed to be angry at him.

"Who the fuck are you?" I growled again.

"I am Dr. Xehanort. I worked with Dr. Murphy, but he's seemed to have disappeared."

Those gray creatures must have finished him off after I left. I suddenly didn't feel so good anymore. Worse than before.

"I have reason to believe that you know where he is."

I swallowed. "I, uh, I…"

"I'm surprised you escaped captivity." Dr. Xehanort swirled some creamer into his coffee and blew on it before taking a sip. "I wonder how you did it."

"Dr. Murphy wanted to see what was in the boxcar."

Dr. Xehanort chuckled. "Oh, so that's what happened to it. I was beginning to think it had died." He took another sip of coffee. "May I ask what was in the boxcar?"

"Something awful."

Dr. Xehanort chuckled again. "I have three colleagues who would strongly disagree with you. Anyway, that is not the reason I've sought you out, though you did help with the second reason for coming all the way out here in the middle of nowhere. I wanted to see if my source's reports were true. It pleases me that they are."

"What are you talking about?"

"You were there for the attack on the Steamtown Mall, yes?"

"Yes."

Dr. Xehanort cut into the pecan pie and ate a piece. By the way he smiled, I assumed that it was good and was, indeed, the "best pie in town". "I assume you also know that what the news said about the source of the mayhem was not a tactical team of serial killers. Though they were tactical and efficient, and quite possibly could fall under the 'serial killer' label. They were not human. Or at least not wholly so. Am I also correct?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"I need to ask you something."

I fidgeted a little bit. I didn't want him to be here anymore. This was my humanity talking. This man was a bringer of death and evil. He did not deserve to live any longer, this I was sure of. With every fiber of my being.

Dr. Xehanort had finished his pie in the time it took for him to figure out how he was going to ask for whatever it was that he wanted from me. I grew more and more on edge the longer he was silent. I really did not enjoy his presence.

Finally, he spoke, "I want you to give in to the impulses that you feel. I am certain that you are providing a link to something that I find to be very important to not only me, but my family as well. You are able to communicate what you desire in words that we can understand. I can understand you. And I want to help, but you have to do whatever you please. Do you understand?"

I nodded reluctantly. "Unfortunately."

"Good, though I hope you would not resort to the distasteful act you had earlier this afternoon. It is not right, and I will not allow you continue to exist on this earth if you feel it necessary to force yourself on women in such a manor." Dr. Xehanort frowned. "I understand your desires. I have the same ones sometimes. Be tasteful. I want to see how you handle yourself, but I will not sacrifice my morals to let you do so."

I didn't say a thing.

"Am I clear?"

"Crystal."

"Great!" He leaned in close and I couldn't help but copy him. "Now, my friend, what is it you desire right now?"

"Debbie," I said without thinking.

"Why?"

"I don't know," I hissed. "I just do."

"Can you at least try to explain your feelings?"

I drew in a deep breath. "She smells like bananas and pine needles. She smells so good and fertile."

"You can smell fertility?" Dr. Xehanort breathed. "That is remarkable. What else?"

"I want food."

"Why?"

"Because I'm hungry!"

Dr. Xehanort paused. "What kind of hunger is it?"

"Why does it even matter?"

"Because it does."

He was using my own words against me. He didn't want to give me an explanation? Fine. I wouldn't tell him a thing anymore. He could rot.

"What else?"

I turned away. "I'm not talking to you anymore."

He arched an eyebrow. "Oh, really?"

"Yes, really."

He promptly stood up and left my booth. My food had long turned cold and I waited for a long time before eating it. I was still starving, but there was a tremor of anxiety underneath my gluttony. Dr. Xehanort had slipped to the counter and ordered another coffee. Debbie eagerly served him and he appeared to have made some kind of small talk, for she stood there for about five minutes before moving again.

Then she came over to me.

"Hi." She smiled at me. It wasn't the smile that turned me on though, it was her smell. There was something else mixed in with the smell of her fertility. Lust. "Listen, your friend over there decided to pay your bill for you. And he also said that you like me. Is it true?"

I nearly shit myself. That bastard.

"Uh…yeah…kind of."

She giggled. "I hardly know you. I mean, this is the first time I've seen you in my life. Why do you like me?"

My brain went fuzzy. I couldn't just say why like I had with Dr. Xehanort, I had to be cooler with it. But my instincts were telling me to tell her the truth because—in my new mindset—that is what made sense. But, that humanity told me otherwise.

Humanity won out.

"I think you are beautiful and smart." That was only a half truth. She was beautiful, but smart is not one of the things I immediately attributed to her when she asked me what I had wanted to order. "And you smell really pretty and you are so kind. I would call it love at first sight."

That was a little much. But it worked, because she took my hand.

"I punch out in fifteen minutes. Would you like to…I don't know—"

"I do," I said quickly.

She smirked at me. I was in. I don't know what Dr. Xehanort said to her, but whatever it was, it certainly made her eager to be with me. So know I owed him. As Debbie practically skipped away, I rushed over to him and sat down at the counter.

"You want to know what kind of hunger it is? Fine."

He didn't look at me, but I could see he was paying close attention.

I tried to say it as quickly as possible because I didn't quite understand it myself and I was also a little pressed for time. "It's never-ending. I could eat myself to death and I still would not be satisfied. I eat until my body literally cannot handle it, and then I puke it back up. I do this over and over and over again. And whenever I am not eating, fucking, or running around, I get these pains. Horrifyingly excruciating pains. But, I feel better when I am doing any of those three things."

He looked at me. "You want to run?"

"All day and all night."

"Thank you my friend. We'll be in touch someday. I'll have to send you a letter. I just hope you'll listen to me."

I scoffed at him. "Whatever."

And then I left. But his words still echoed in my head. _I want you to give in to the impulses that you feel._

Those seemed like perfectly reasonable words to live by, especially since about five minutes after Debbie left the diner, I was fucking her in the backseat of the car I stole. I did not regret it either. She wanted it. I could tell she wanted it, but that wasn't the most important thing. It was more important that _I _wanted it.

_I want you to give in to the impulses that you feel._

And, boy, was I.

So much so, that I didn't see that gray creature slip into the diner and kill everyone within it.

Aw well.

* * *

><p><strong>Hope you liked this. Time to unwind, yes?<strong>

**Has a nice day from the both of us. :D  
><strong>


	6. Controlling Crowds

**Sorry for the delay, folks. I truly do apologize. Unfortunately, I had difficulties writing this chapter. Sometimes it's hard to dedicate yourself to one project when you have hundreds of other ideas you want to attend to. Plus, I was in some strange mania where I felt almost ill whenever I tried to write the chapter. However, I recognize the responsibility I have to people who read the story, so I will never be the kind of guy who updates every three fucking years or something. But, I did not want to force myself to write a shitty chapter. I wanted this chapter to be good. And I think it is. So, in order to get myself into a more fresh writing-mood, I experimented with other types of writing (hence my new FanFic, **_**The Portraits of Princess Peach's Castle**_**) and whole other art forms, most especially music. As I wait for Hajikurazaki to write the next chapter, I will try hard to complete my first "album" of experimental/electronic songs, which will be available for download, no charge. It's nothing too awful, so make sure to snag it when I make it available. **

**Oh, and I just found out that I took the SATs TWICE, and got the SAME fucking score BOTH TIMES. So I'm pissed. Make sure you has a nice day, though. :D**

**Haji presents DeadShut's chapter. Now read it...  
><strong>

* * *

><p><em><strong>This land is your land,<strong>_

_**This land is my land. **_

_**From California**_

_**To the New York Island.**_

_**From the Redwood Forest**_

_**To the Gulf Stream waters, **_

_**This land was made for you and me. **_

**-Woody Guthrie **

_**Churches and dictators, **_

_**Politics and papers.  
>Everything crumbles<br>Sooner or later. **_

** -Elton John**

* * *

><p>If you lived in Scranton, Pennsylvania and tuned in to the local news station on channel thirteen in between six and seven o'clock on the day the President of the United States came to your humble city known only for its relation to the comedy show starring Steve Carell, you may have witnessed a piece of important history. Perhaps you were somewhat expecting what happened to happen on that evening, but you were still shocked when it actually occurred. It is not every day a normal United States citizen sees the face of true evil and lives to tell the tale.<p>

Perhaps you heard of the President's coming to Scranton the day previously after coming home from work and putting on the news for background noise while you cooked yourself something to eat. Perhaps you heard of his coming from a friend you were talking with online. Perhaps you eavesdropped a conversation about it at the workplace, too awkward and shy to join in yourself. No matter how you heard it, it excited you. Although the losses at the Steamtown Mall were saddening, the fact that the President was going to address it made you feel more important. Perhaps this was some sort of new Ground Zero.

The President came to Scranton; his stage and podium were set at the large, windowed entrance of the Steamtown Mall. The magnificent chandelier right inside glimmered—thankfully, the monstrosities had not destroyed the beautiful crystal lamp. Hundreds were torn to bits, but that one chandelier's survival was a glimmer of hope to those either attending the speech or watching it from their homes. Many of the attendants were people who lost loved ones in the massacre. Others were journalists, notepads and recorders held tightly in their hands. Most of the attendants, however, were just normal Scranton citizens, confused and hurt by their attack.

The President didn't have much to say to the citizens. That much was clear in his so-called "speech". He hardly said a thing, as you might have noticed if you tuned in on your television, or perhaps even attended. Just the same trivial crap that was fed to you by the mayor: "We will find these culprits…" and blah blah blah. Nothing of substance, you might have noted to yourself.

However, if you had watched the news during all of this, you must have noticed the camera (placed high above the ground) catching a lone figure rushing through the crowd, splitting it in half like a knife through butter. The figure was fast, and although it looked human, it was clear that it was anything but when that brave cameraman zoomed in on its face…or lack thereof. It was a horrifying, horrendous humanoid. There was no face on its head, only a large, metallic mouth that clicked as the thing sprinted.

One bodyguard stood in front of the President while three others stood in front of the stage and opened fire with their handguns. The thing zoomed around, dodging the bullets with much ease; it then jumped underneath one of their arms - the middle guard. Although the news channel went off-air at that moment, those attending the attack would have seen the poor bodyguard get disemboweled in two arm movements from the creature. The two remainders, in their fear, turned to shoot the creature simultaneously; both shot each other - the casualty count listed the left guard as having been shot in the hip, while the other was shot in the upper leg. Both fell, but ultimately survived the ordeal.

Now in the crowd was mass hysteria. The creature moved around civilians very swiftly, as if it was aware of the snipers in the buildings above it who couldn't get a shot on the thing without accidentally killing an innocent…which they _could not_ risk doing.

Although the majority of the people in the crowd ran for their lives, others—mostly relatives of the deceased—either stood their ground or furiously ran after the monstrosity. Two citizens died in this scuffle, but how they were killed remains unknown.

As the monstrosity moved forward, it was clear that its target was the President himself, who was now being ushered into a car surrounded by armed men. The creature began to snake its way over, anticipating shots from only the bodyguards, which led to its ultimate demise; it was shot in the back thrice by local police officer James Wilde. Wilde was later rewarded for his courage, personally, by the President.

The area was evacuated. Professionals were brought in to collect the dead creature, and a search on the surrounding blocks was acted out until dawn; there were no incidents.

Were you a witness in this chapter of the United States where for the first time a drone from an unknown enemy attacked the President?

If so, welcome to history.

* * *

><p>It was after-school. All of the buses were gone, and the after-school activities had been cancelled due to the forecasted rain. It had been cloudy all day, much to the dread of most athletes, but to the delight of Sora. Right now, he sat on the empty bleachers overlooking the football field. He was leaning on the row behind him, staring up at the cloudy sky, humming to himself.<p>

This had been something he wanted to do since he arrived at this school. Every day he spent so much time around others that he seldom actually had time for himself. And the football field, devoid of any trees, was a nice clear area to get his thoughts together by himself. This definitely beat thinking around a bunch of yelling teenagers in the hallways, or in a cramped apartment around a slightly crazed Riku. Here he could actually have some peace.

He was amazed at how much he had changed. Just a couple months ago he would've been as chipper as can be. He never felt this different at his old school…but with the Organization aware of his existence, it wasn't safe to go back. Plus…who would he go to? His parents were gone. Sure, they hadn't been the greatest parents in the world, but Sora still loved them. He had never asked for perfection. He had never asked for complication. All he had ever truly asked for in life was to be loved. And he had been denied that; his parents were gone, Mick was hardly around anymore, and both Riku and Kairi were drifting away from him. The only real fatherly figure in his life now was Cloud, but he never really saw Cloud or Namine too often—they were too busy preparing the wedding.

There were times when Sora considered leaving D.C., and just try and go back home. But he knew he could not do that. In his frustration at the loss of his parents, he became responsible for pissing off a group of psychopaths, and now, of all times, he was coming to regret it. Although the memories seemed almost like blurs now, he felt a twinge of remorse at the thoughts of killing Luxord and Lexaeus.

However, some indignant voice said in his chest, it wasn't necessarily his fault. Luxord fell due to his own neglect. Lexaeus fell on his own hatchet. And, as far as Sora knew, all of the Members who tried to kill him and Kairi that night at the Grand Hotel were still alive: Zexion, Marluxia, _and_ Axel. Nobody had died in that conflict, Sora figured.

But did that matter to Xehanort and his followers? Probably not, Sora thought. They seemed like the kinds of guys who would take out anyone who stood in their way.

_What's taking them so long, then, with me?_

He frowned at the sky.

_If there is a God, thanks a lot for bending me over and screwing me. _

He then suddenly spoke out loud: "I am Sora. I'm sixteen years-old. And I miss my mommy and daddy, because I'm scared."

The ultimate truth, finally spoken. For too long he had played tough-guy; now he was clutching his stomach as he cried hysterically. He cried until his throat went dry and his eyes stung something awful. He cried until tears soaked his shirt's collar. And, then, he cried some more.

For what seemed like eternity but was actually ten minutes, Sora cried on the bleachers.

Everything rushed through his mind. In the past couple of months alone, his parents were murdered, he killed quite a few people himself, he witnessed even more than a few people die horribly, he lost his virginity, escaped a burning building, and got shot by some lovesick freak in Manhattan. What the hell happened to hanging out with friends during gym, going on dates with girls in his class, considering a career in computer technology?

How could that be torn from him?

Suddenly, through his tears, his eyes darkened. His sobs became hisses of fury.

_I'm so sick of this_, he thought furiously. _I'm so sick of trying to keep everything in control. Enough of this little kid happy-ending bullshit_.

Who were any of these people to get in the way of his happiness?

Suddenly he felt encouraged and inspired; he could be normal if he wanted, couldn't he?

But, unfortunately, he remembered that now that he was in it…he was _in_ it. There _was_ no going back. His life had been turned around this summer, and he was going to avenge his parents, even if such a path ended with his own demise. He didn't necessarily care anymore; who would miss him?

In fact, now that he thought about it…probably no one. Who _were_ these strangers he had attached himself to? Why did they just have to interfere? The ultimate mission was to kill the Organization…wasn't it?

_No,_ he thought angrily. _If I can't appreciate all my friends have done for me, then I've learned nothing. I can't play lone gunman. They're a part of all this, too_.

However, that wasn't the main concern. Right now, he had to make sure that his friendships would not crash out of his control. Which, at this rate, they were probably going to. If anything, he had to do it himself.

It was time for him to make things right.

He flipped open his cell phone and went to his contacts.

After getting a message saying he had to leave a voicemail, Sora spoke: "Hi, Kairi. It's me. I hope your train ride was okay. It must be nice to be back in the Big Apple. I was thinking about last night, and how we were before those goons came…and, Kairi, I don't think we're having as much fun as we used to have with one another. I love you very much, and that spark we have can never be gone, but right now it seems…dim. I think maybe we should stop dating for a little while. We've both seen a lot together, and I think it's time that we should think about them by ourselves. I'll talk to you later. Bye."

He ended the voicemail. Sighing, Sora then put his phone into his pocket, and turned his head back up to the cloudy sky. This time, small droplets of rain fell onto his face and ran down his cheeks. He closed his eyes, enjoying the cool raindrops as they came.

When he opened his eyes and looked forward, a man was standing in the center of the football field.

Shocked, Sora leaned forward, gaping. He had not seen anyone enter.

The man was clothed in a black tuxedo, complete with a top hat and monocle. His eyes were dark shines in the rain, and his head was cocked slightly with interest as he looked up at Sora.

"You okay, sir?" Sora called.

The man did not respond.

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Are you okay?"

"I am fine, Sora."

Sora's blood went cold at the sound of his name. Who was this man? In defense, he wielded his Keyblade and pointed it at the man.

"Organization Member, eh?" he asked coldly.

"No, m'boy. Although, I must say, they were a slight more polite than you were."

Sora slightly lowered the Keyblade. "Who are you?"

"I am the Proxy, good sir. Very nice to meet you."

"How do you know who I am?"

"I know many things, Sora. I'm even on friendly terms with your guardian, Riku. Tell me; how is he?"

Sora grit his teeth and demanded, "_Who are you_?"

"My friend, I've already told you! I am the Proxy. Here now and forever, world without end, hallelujah and amen." He snapped his fingers; suddenly, much to Sora's immense shock, the quiet air around them turned into the comical sound of an enthusiastic church choir.

"H-how did you do that?" cried Sora.

"Because, my friend, I am the Proxy. I can do many things."

"Did you just do some magic shit or something?"

"Magic? Ha! There is no such thing as magic, my friend. Only nature. And sometimes, with the right tools, one may bend nature. I am Osiris and Zeus, Jesus Christ and Mohammed, Buddha and Horus! I am Set, I am Shiva, I am Lucifer! However, such silly names never truly stuck. I take pride in Proxy now - this age of rationalism has allowed me to don it."

"Sir, I haven't a clue what the holy fuck you are talking about."

"Pity. The Organization understood quite clearly. In fact, they were eager to meet me. Of course, they're a bit too brutal for my taste, but…anyways. How's Riku doing? Did he like the gift I gave him? I thought he used it quite well against Lea and Ryan last month. Magnificent fighting on his part, really. Truly."

"The gift…?" Then, sudden realization came over Sora. He looked at the Proxy in shock. "_You_ gave him _Soul Eater_?"

"Well, yes. That was a bit of fun, actually. I do love it when one healthy heart deserves a Keyblade."

"Did…did you give me mine?"

The Proxy frowned. "No," he said, troubled. "I did not. I sometimes wonder who did. However, I did forge Riku _his_ weapon. Quite a masterpiece, if you don't mind me saying."

"You can make Keyblades?"

"Ahh, yep. Yes. I can. But not as well as yours."

"What are they?" asked Sora, excited. "The Keyblades?"

"Weapons. Storage devices. Compasses. Yours, however, is quite close to the perfect balance of all three. My forge comes close to your own, but not all the way. However, it's a nice fit for Riku."

"Why did we both get Keyblades?"

"Hearts that come in both purity and longing for justice are needed in order to receive one."

"Mine must've chose the wrong guy, then. I'm not perfect."

"Ah, my friend…nobody is perfect. Whoever gave you yours thought you had a pure enough heart to bestow you such a weapon in order to aid you on whatever adventures you may go on. I thought the same for Riku, myself. I encouraged him quite a bit, you see. Funny how it worked out; Riku needed to have his heart broken in order to make him pure."

"Are there others with Keyblades?"

"Yes. The ones they have are mostly human-made."

"As opposed to…?"

"Proxy-made, I guess." The stranger giggled.

Sora was mystified. "What _are_ you, sir?"

"I told you. I am the Proxy."

"Why are you here?"

"To help you out. Like Riku's were, your anxiety levels are quite high. As I am trying to help Keybladers such as yourself, I need to make sure you are doing things to feel better."

"I…I think I am."

"Oh, splendid! You work a lot faster than Riku ever did. Perhaps now you are both done being _in utero_, and are ready to begin your training."

"Excuse me?"

"Your training, Sora," said the Proxy patiently. "There are those more skilled in the Keyblade than you and Riku are. Do you truly expect to defeat your enemies by confronting them one at a time and hoping for another fatal accident to befall them? No…you must work with your _Kingdom Key_, as must Riku with his _Soul Eater_."

"How do we learn?" asked Sora, now even more interested than ever.

"Why, you must be taught."

"Who could possibly teach me?"

"Well, there is one who has read much on the topic of Keyblades, who dwells in Miami. He may be able to teach you things about it history-wise and so forth. But he is a very shady man, Sora, very shady indeed. Another possible teacher lives in Chinatown. I would start with him, if I were you."

"What's his name?" asked Sora eagerly.

"I don't know. I'm not omniscient, my friend. Just knowledgeable. Go find him yourself. However, be wary, Sora. There are others in the world who may just be given Keyblades. And you may not like who has them, for just because you have the _Kingdom Key_ does not mean you are invincible or any better than other Keybladers."

"_Kingdom Key_, huh?" said Sora softly, looking down at his weapon.

"Indeed. Well, I better be on my way now. Things to do, very big people to see. Oh, and remember, Sora; just because one's heart is pure, it does not mean that their hearts are sinless. Even the worst of monsters can wield a Keyblade.

"Just like every type of warrior, there are both light and dark Wielders. Have a nice day."

And with that, the man was gone. Deleted from reality. There wasn't even a slight trace of his existence…but, wait! Where the man was standing was now a small note card. Sora cautiously went towards it and picked it up. Upon it read the words: "_**Acknowledge and move on**_".

Frowning, Sora pocketed the Keyblade and the note card, then turned to walk home.

He had to speak with Riku.

* * *

><p>Jack counted his budget for possibly the hundredth time since had gotten it earlier today. Like every other time, he counted exactly four thousand dollars. He truly was amazed with the way he had smooth-talked his way into such a tremendous amount of money to throw a small Halloween party. But, then again, he <em>was<em> good at talking. Plus, he was glad that Mr. Truman was smart enough to give him the position to run his party; obviously, Jack was the best planner in all of D.C.

He walked down his street and into his driveway; Zero, his happy little Jack Russell Terrier who was looking out the window, barked cheerfully at the sight of his master returning home. Jack smiled and opened the front door to his small house, allowing his puppy to jump playfully up and down.

"Alright, boy, calm down," Jack laughed. "How's about a nice, delicious Milkbone? Sound good?"

Although Zero obviously said nothing back, his swiftly-wagging tail was answer enough.

Laughing again, Jack walked into the kitchen, just in time to hear his phone ring.

He answered: "This is Jack."

"Jack, it's Lock."

"Lockie! What's up, my man? How're the siblings?"

"They're fine. Listen, Jack, I thought I'd let you know…Max Deere's gone missing."

Jack gasped. "Seriously?"

"Seriously. He's gone."

Max Deere was the founder of Sandy Claws Inc., another party-planning company that rivaled Jack's one-man-gusto. Deere had taken many of Jack's clients, and although Jack was genuinely worried for the man's wellbeing, he could not say he wasn't completely ungrateful that the man had gone missing as he prepared for Truman's party.

"Damn."

"Yeah. Looks like we'll have this party uninterrupted for once."

"That's not nice, Lock."

"Whatever. See ya', man."

"See ya'."

Jack hung up the phone. Then, he thrust his fist into the air with triumph before giving Zero a bone.

* * *

><p>"Release me!" roared Max Deere as he struggled against the chains that held him to whatever table he was on in this nightmarish darkness. He was <em>incredibly<em> pissed off. Out of nowhere, as he was walking down the street to his house, three thugs ambushed him and knocked him out cold. Next thing he knew, he was strapped to some uncomfortable table. Since his awakening, he had been screaming for help, but received no answer. Someone was going to get sued _big-time_, and if there was anything remaining of those three punks once Deere's lawyer was through with them, Deere would officially see to it that their asses were beat to death by any local muscle he could hire.

"Is anyone there? Anyone? Please, someone—!"

His voice trailed off as, all around the room, purple lights illuminated the area. Deere recognized them instantly: blacklights. Used by a lot of family-fun places. Incredibly, all around him, he saw various items and monuments glowing in the blacklight: suits of armor, chains, what looked like a medieval torture device and, strangest of all, large casino paraphernalia including neon "OPEN"-signs, giant playing cards, a couple of slot machines, and a craps table. To his amazement, he realized the "table" he was on was actually a humongous roulette board.

"What in the…?"

He heard a door open and close, and then suddenly he was staring at what seemed to be a man wearing a suit and burlap sack over his head.

"What is the meaning of this?" demanded Deere.

The man chuckled and from his pocket took out a wallet—Deere's wallet, to be exact—and looked through it, only stopping once he saw one of Deere's business cards.

"Well, well, well…what have we here…" said the man mockingly. "'Sandy Claws', huh? Pffft. _Ooooh_, I'm really scared, 'Sandy'." He cackled and spun the gigantic roulette wheel; the hapless Deere spun with it. "You're joking. Joking! I can't believe my eyes. You're joking me, you gotta be; one of Truman's decorating guys? I might just split a seam here if I don't die laughing first.

"When Mr. Otto Oogie says there's trouble close at hand…you'd better pay attention now, 'cause I'm your boogie man!"

"Otto!" roared Deere. "Is that you behind the mask? What is going on? I swear, I better get an explanation now or you'll face the dire consequences!"

Otto laughed again. "Oh, God, you're kidding! I can't believe my ears when you threaten me. You really should shut the fuck up, or else I'll end up drowning in my tears. Just stop struggling, Deere, and let me do my stuff."

"Stuff? W-what are you going to do?"

"Why…_the best I can_!" Otto took a small pocket knife from his coat, folded it open, and sliced his victim's cheek. Deere cried at the thin cut, but sobered up into a silent shock when he saw Otto raise the knife to his masked mouth; a pink tongue protruded from the hole in the burlap and lapped the crimson off the weapon.

Otto moved to the wall behind him and flicked a switch. Flashing casino lights Max hadn't seen earlier were now going into firework displays of color. Slowly, the roulette wheel underneath him began to turn.

"A couple things you oughta know about me, Deere," laughed Otto. "I'm a gambling boogieman, although I don't play fair. However, typical gambling got boring. It's much more fun, I've gotta confess, when lives are on the line. I tried it last week…and it was fantastic. We're gonna try again, with you."

"Wha…Otto, this is ridiculous! Release me at once!"

"Ha! You put me in a spin, Deere. You aren't comprehending the position that you're in. You haven't got a prayer, man.

"So, let's get the dice a'rollin'!"

* * *

><p>When Kairi was done listening to Sora's voicemail, she did not burst into tears, nor did she get angry, nor did she do more than sigh and shake her head. She herself knew that their relationship was dying. It was only a matter of time, she suspected. However, why did he have to be such a fucking child about it? A break-up over the cell phone? They could have at <em>least<em> talked it out in person. But, oh well; beggars couldn't be choosers these days.

She hung up her phone and sighed again as she walked to the Café Spice inside Grand Central Station. Kairi was amazed at the Station's vastness, and was occasionally locked in place in her awe when she would look up and around, but she tried to keep her cool as best she could. At the Café Spice, she got a small coffee and sat down with it on one of the benches in the main lobby of the Station. Her train back to D.C. came at six, so she had about twenty minutes to kill. Deciding to not think about Sora, she put in her headphones and cranked up some Arctic Monkeys tunes.

However, through her third song, a finger tapped her shoulder. She turned to see a handsome young man smiling politely down at her, looking her over with eyes as dark as his hair. Underneath his smile was a patch of beard that he scratched out of habit. As he leaned over, a necklace dangled below him: it looked like a green gem full of black paint. Kairi flushed immediately upon seeing this man, and began cursing herself for not wearing a more sexy outfit to work in.

"Hi, there," said the man cheerfully. "Might I ask what train you're boarding?"

"Why?" asked Kairi softly; _my God, _she thought. _Am I actually SHY?_

"Because I'm heading to D.C. I want to know when the train arrives."

"Uhm, in twenty minutes, I think. I'm going there, too."

"Really? That's cool. I've been asking people everywhere, and nobody has known anything except for you. Might I join you?"

"Uh, sure." She moved down the bench, allowing him to sit next to her. She wondered if she looked as red and embarrassed as she felt.

The man noticed her embarrassment, and seemed to suddenly thrive on it. Kairi didn't mind; it was all a part of the flirting-game.

"My name's Felix," said the man. "Felix Vanitas." He held out his hand.

Kairi shook it. "I'm Kairi O'Cooper. Nice to meet you."

Something flickered in Felix's eyes for a moment at the sound of her name, but it was brief. Then, he said, "_Very_ nice to meet you, too. Kairi, your name is? That's a very interesting name. How ever did your parents come up with such a one?"

"My parents liked to visit Australia a lot before I was born. The town of Kairi was where my father proposed to my mother."

"Wow! That's pretty cool."

"Yeah, I guess."

"It is!" assured Felix, grinning again.

Kairi smiled back; it was too contagious to _not_ smile back.

"So, Miss Kairi O'Cooper, what business do you have in D.C.?"

"I live there. How about you, Mr. Felix Vanitas?"

"I wanted to try photography. I've got my camera in my bag here. And what better place could there be in good ol' U.S. of A to take pictures than our nation's capital?"

"Very true. It's beautiful down there."

"Looking at you, it must be something in the water."

She blushed, but punched his arm playfully. "Is that how you get all the chicks, player?"

He laughed. "No, no! I swear. I'm usually a lot more direct, but when it's with someone I _really_ like, I have my moments."

She giggled. "You're a dork."

"Yeah, I've been told. Way to boost the self-esteem. We've been talking maybe two minutes and already you're bashin' me."

"Awww. Intimidated?"

"Ha! You don't know the half of it."

"I can take off the business clothes if that'll take the edge off."

"I'm pretty sure if you took _any_ of your clothes off, I'd have a heart attack."

"I work for a politician, Felix. Don't bullshit a bullshitter."

"What politician?"

"I can't tell you." She bit her lip and smiled. "You'd hate me."

"Go on, tell me!"

"Truman."

"…oh God…"

"See? You hate me."

"That's right. I absolutely hate you. Get the fuck off my bench, Republican."

Kairi burst out laughing; many people walking by shot her strange looks as she did so.

Felix smiled. "And you said _I'm_ the dork?"

"I never said I wasn't, too," Kairi giggled uncontrollably.

"Great. Now if I were to get your number, you'd act like a dippy freak and actually call me instead of the usual getting-to-know-you-texting-sessions we young lads like to use nowadays."

Kairi laughed again. "Probably. I'd make you stay up all night with me while I lecture you on the importance of my job over the phone."

"As long as you're not against me furtively touching myself as you did that, we're practically a couple already."

Now Kairi was _crying_ with laughter. Felix merely grinned easily at his handiwork and sat back, his eyes closed. To Kairi, he looked very calm. That kind of laid-back persona reminded her of…

_Sora_.

She started sobbing. Alarmed, Felix asked quickly, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing…it's not you, it's just…I broke up with my boyfriend today. At first I didn't mind so much, but it's starting to hit me."

"That's a shame. Seems like he's making a big mistake. What was his name?"

"Sora."

"Ah…interesting name."

"Yeah. He was an interesting guy." She laughed tearfully. "This sucks."

"I'll bet. We all have our tough break-ups, though." He frowned and put a comforting arm around her. Then, he stood up and said: "I think I'll give you some time to yourself. How about we get some dinner on the train tonight? We can talk all you'd like."

"O-okay…thank you…"

Vanitas smiled, nodded, and walked away. Kairi watched him go, then wiped her eyes and blew her nose. Finally, the tears stopped, and she began to feel better with the release of those painful emotions.

She collected her things, pulled her purse over her shoulder, and walked towards her platform. Suddenly, she was very excited about going on the train.

As far as she knew, she had a date there. And her date made her far more happy than Sora had today.

* * *

><p>"I just don't get it," said Sora sadly. He was sitting on a lawn chair, looking up at the stars on Cloud's back porch, a bottle of Coke in his hand. On either side of him in their own lawn chairs was Riku and Cloud, who had silver cans of beer that they sipped on as they conversed. Light from the house's windows made perfect little squares of yellow on the floor of dark porch, "I put my life on the line for her. How can she possibly do this to me?"<p>

"The hell are you talking about?" asked Riku. "_You_ broke up with her. It was your call from the beginning."

"What else could I do, Riku? It was falling apart."

Cloud sighed mockingly and said, "Young love."

Sora gave a mild chuckle. "Oh, screw you, Cloud. Kairi was to me what Namine is to you."

"Oh, so you're marrying Kairi in four days and she's pregnant with your child?"

"…touché. But, I mean, it _felt_ right. Our relationship, I mean. I never felt that way about anyone before. It was like it was…I dunno, destiny or something."

Cloud sat up in his lawn chair, took a swig of beer, and said, "Sora, I'm gonna tell you a story. It's not a fantastic story, but it just might help you out in this situation.

"In my freshman year of high school, I had a gym class full of girls, with only myself and three other guys being the only males there. Almost every single one of those girls were absolutely gorgeous. I mean, they had great personalities and all, but nothing was better for fourteen-year-old Cloud than watching those girls run around in those skimpy little sport-shorts they always wore. Me and the other guys always called them 'booty-shorts', but whatever. They all wore those shorts to get us guys' attention. And, boy, did it work. I flirted with most of the girls there, and I felt like one suave motherfucker. But, then, one day something strange happened.

"As we were playing kickball, one short little cutie of a girl came up to me and started flirting with me. Sora, something about that girl felt…right. I was instantly hooked. We barely talked after that, but I was utterly convinced I was in love with her. Of course, you can imagine how bad the pain was when she started dating another guy.

"I felt dreadful, man. Absolutely dreadful. I cried a lot. I felt dead inside. So, eventually, I turned to weed to get out of it. We all know what that led to…but it helped. A lot. And as I grew older, I realized I didn't want her, after all. And with _that_ thought came depression; I thought I would never love again.

"But, obviously, I do now. And this love is much better than the one I had with Miss Cutie. I have Namine and I love her to death. And, let me tell you, Sora…this love is a whole lot better than teenaged love."

"What the fuck is the point of telling me all that?" demanded Sora angrily.

"The point is," said Cloud patiently. "That even though your relationship _feels_ right with Kairi, that doesn't mean it _is_."

Sora sighed. "Whatever."

"I mean it, man. Love's a bitch at first, but progressively gets better."

"I'd 'love' Namine a lot more if she'd let me have a beer."

Cloud laughed, long and heartily. Riku joined in. After a while, Sora did as well.

"Nice to see you all bonding," said a deep voice from behind them.

All three turned to see Mick, leaning casually against the doorway, a beer of his own in-hand, smiling.

"Mick!" cried Sora happily. "Good to see you, man!"

"You, too, pal."

Riku sat up, grinning. "Where's Don and Goof'?" he asked.

"With Chip and Dale, those two pilots. Turns out they're both macho-men themselves, and Don and Goof' are ecstatic to have someone they have things in common with be a part of our team."

"I wasn't aware Don and Goof' had interests or hobbies," said Sora in mock-awe.

Mick grinned. "Well, they do. Cars, beer, guns. The usual shit. They're absolutely _awful_ to talk politics with, though. Anyways…Cloud, did you buy Namine that dog? That was the cutest puppy I've ever seen."

"Yep," said Cloud proudly. "I've always wanted a Golden Retriever, so I decided now was the best of times, with the baby coming in the next couple months. Strife Jr. needs a playmate. Actually, where is that damn dog? I hope he's not pissing anywhere. _Pluto_!"

From the house, a small little golden-furred puppy came running out, his mouth pulled back into a panting grin, his tail wagging excitedly. The little dog went right to Cloud, hopped up on his lap, and laid there, tail still wagging and looking adorably up at the three other men.

"He's a cute little guy," said Riku, petting him.

Sora scratched the puppy behind the ears and said to Cloud, "He really is a cute dog. But why would you name him Pluto?"

"It's a cool name. Plus, it just _feels_ right. Pluto is the underdog planet. The little guy. I always root for the little guy."

"Pluto isn't a planet," said Sora. "It's a dwarf—"

"Oh, shut up."

"'kay," he laughed, and stroked the dog again.

Pluto licked his hand and barked his approval. Sora laughed again.

After a moment, Mick cleared his throat loudly. The three others looked at him, and saw, to their shock, that he had a rather sad look upon his face.

He said, "As much as I love that little dog, he's not the reason why I'm here. In fact, I have some things to inform you about, and then to admit.

"First and most importantly, today there was an attack on the President of the United States in Scranton, Pennsylvania. As you recall, a group of 'highly-trained serial killers' destroyed almost all of the civilians in the Steamtown mall in Scranton; the President went to give a speech in honor of the deceased. During this speech, an athletic man who was reported to have 'no face' by eye-witnesses, came running out of the crowd to attack the President. The 'man' was gunned down."

"That's fucking weird," muttered Riku.

Sora asked, "Was anyone hurt?"

"Two people were killed. The events were very mysterious, so I want to send a couple guys out there."

"Me and Sora?" asked Riku excitedly. There was a gleam in his eyes that Sora did not like one bit.

Mick nodded. "That's right. I want you and Sora to take a train to Scranton next week, and scope out the city. You will have help, but not Don and Goof' this time. This time, you'll have four newcomers to our cause who will help you search for anything suspicious. Then, I'm going to have all six of you head up to Manhattan and take care of some things for me." He looked at Riku. "Things involving Someone."

Riku bit his lip. "No," he said. "I don't think I'm going to do that."

"I think you are."

"Mick—" began Sora, but the ex-Senator raised his hand to silence the boy.

Mick looked Riku dead in the eye and said, "You are no longer a part of her empire, Riku. You've joined a bigger cause. Why should seeing her matter?"

"I…" Riku began, but then caught himself short. He coughed nervously, then continued, "I love her."

"I know," said Mick sadly. "And that love was containing your inner good, Riku." He took a deep breath, then stated boldly, "The day of Sora's fight in the Grand Hotel, I personally met with Aqua and asked her to release you from her service."

"You…did…._what_?" growled Riku, taking a threatening step forward.

Mick didn't budge. "I did what I had to, Riku. She chose to execute our deal by breaking your heart. I never wanted it to happen that way. I'm…very sorry. You have no idea how…"

"Oh bullshit!" Riku just about screamed. His face was red with fury. "Bull-_shit_, Mick! I've been sitting around D.C. with my fucking thumb up my ass, wondering what the fuck is happening, and you wait until _now_ to tell me that you made a _deal_ with the hell-whore to utterly fucking destroy me? _I'M NOT A PUPPET, GODDAMMIT!_" With that, Riku pulled a small pistol from his pocket and aimed it at Mick's face.

Mick raised his hands above his head instinctively and replied quickly, "Riku, I know you're not a puppet. Please, I did what I had to."

Sora wielded the Keyblade and pointed it at his friend.

"Riku," said Sora calmly. "Lower the gun."

Riku did so, but reluctantly.

Mick began again, "I did what I had to, Riku. Aqua would be the death of you. She said so herself. And I think you knew that."

"I could be married right now, Mick."

Cloud protested jokingly, "Hey, that's my job."

Riku glowered at him; Cloud recoiled.

Mick's voice remained calm. "How could that harpy ever be your bride?"

"Don't call her a harpy!"

"I'll call it as I see it. Do you think Aqua is the type to love, Riku? Do you truly see yourselves in your mid-forties and -fifties, drinking iced tea on a porch somewhere in the countryside and watching your kids play ball?

"It would never happen, Riku. She's not the type."

Riku clenched his teeth angrily, spat in Mick's direction, then sat back down on the lawn chair. His gulps of beer were now significantly greater in quantity.

Finally, he growled, "So what the fuck do you want us to do with her in Manhattan? Tear her head off?"

"Not even close. You see, Riku, when I made that deal with her, she needed to get something in return. I need you to find out what that is."

"Why can't you do that?"

"Oh, I will. I'll be meeting you in Manhattan. We'll all be going together."

Sora turned to Mick, alarmed. "So…what? She can kill us all if we refuse to give her what we want?"

"She won't do that. At least, I don't think she will. If she tries, I think we can handle it."

Riku sighed. "Fine. I'll come with you. I won't like it, but I will come." He looked at his watch. "Jesus. Sora's got school tomorrow, so we gotta go. Thanks for the beer, Cloud."

"Anytime, kiddo."

Mick hugged Sora goodbye, then gave a curt nod to Riku. Riku returned it, stony-faced.

They drove home in silence.

* * *

><p>Larxene exited the elevator of Oblivion Labs and entered the motel-esque hallway of Member rooms. She desperately needed a shower; fourteen assassinations at once, and she was covered in blood. It had been fun, though…well worth the warm crimson bath she had been forced to take. It wasn't often she got to kick as much ass as that, and she was glad she got to tonight. It had been another club downtown, near the Hudson, and she was ordered to take out its managers and leave behind an envelope containing a forged letter Xehanort had written.<p>

Xehanort, the Big Guy, was royally pissed off today. The entire Organization knew it. Someone had been dumb enough to order a Dusk to attack the everfucking President. The only question was…who?

Larxene knew she was in the clear. She had no idea how the hell to communicate with those things. Obviously, the Superior _must_ have known it wasn't her. She had nothing to worry about. But, sadly, that also meant she was very bored. These killings were as entertaining as any movie, yeah, but overall there was a lack of action in her life recently.

She walked into her room and began removing her knives from her cloak in order to place them in their appropriate sockets on her workbench.

And that was when she saw it.

Laying on the workbench, gleaming in the light of the room, was the most beautiful dagger Larxene had ever seen. Its blade was a magnificent, shining silver, and the hilt seemed to be crafted out of some sort of yellow gem. She stared at it in awe until a slim finger tapped her on the shoulder. She turned around to see Zexion, a small grin playing on his face.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

"Zex-"

"It's yours. Consider it a…bonus." She stared at him. "Go on, pick it up! Don't just stand there staring at me."

Trembling, Larxene turned and picked up the blade. It was a bit heavy, but that was good; the best knives were always a bit heavier. She ran her fingers up and down the blade and hilt, savoring the way it felt on her fingertips.

Zexion put his arms around her shoulders and admired the blade from behind her.

He explained, "I realized what I did and said to you a month ago was…wrong of me. I was going through some troubling times, and I didn't have my head straight. I needed a way to make it up to you, so I decided to give you this. See the way it glimmers in the light? It's a rather impressive blade."

At a loss for words, Larxene just nodded.

Zexion continued, "You've always been by my side. Even if I didn't want you there. You're probably the only one I have anything in common with here besides Vexen, and it was incredibly horrid of me to treat you so badly. You and I are a lot alike, Erica-Bridgett. We both want to see the world suffer for its…imperfections. And you're so remarkable at the craft of punishing this wretched planet.

"I had the blade crafted by a maker in Paris. It's called _Foudre_, which is French for-"

"Lightning."

"Indeed. The gem the hilt is made from is called a yellow Naga eye crystal. Quite rare, and quite expensive. The blade is silver, obviously, but polished professionally. The sheath for it is on your bedside table. It's gold with more yellow Naga eye crystals embedded into it. I wanted to give you a knife that meant something. And, as I recalled, our first date was spent watching a lightning storm in Central Park. So, with that event in mind…I had this made."

Larxene turned to him finally, and Zexion saw she was blinking away tears.

"I love you," she whispered.

Zexion looked taken aback. He then closed his eyes, as if concentrating, and said, "I…yes, I love you, too."

Then she was kissing him passionately and aggressively. He kissed back as best he could.

She did not shower alone that night.

When they were finished, Zexion lay in bed with her. As he listened to her soft snoring, he turned _Foudre_ over in his hands, smiling at his cunning.

This stupid little weapon and the forced declaration of love had bought him his place in the Organization for sure, for he was pretty sure Larxene was quite close to telling the Superior about the night of their last sexual act, and whose name he had screamed when he had reached the climax of it.

Not anymore, though. No, sir. Not one bit.

They both slept, smiling for different reasons, but smiling nonetheless.

* * *

><p>Xehanort ran his fingers through his long, white hair for possibly the hundredth time today as he sat at the table of the stained-glass-coated cafeteria in Oblivion Labs. Saix was pacing around the room, which was illuminated with only a couple of candles on the table. Both men were rather frantic, each jittery and anxious. Xehanort himself was fairly certain that he had an ulcer in his mouth from the amount of stress he had gone through today.<p>

"How could this happen, Saix?" he asked. "How in the _hell_ could we let this happen?"

Saix spoke quickly. "Sir, I will personally get to the bottom of this and find out who sent that Dusk upon the President. Our perpetrator will be punished thoroughly."

"I thought my remaining men were loyal to our cause…but it seems we have more traitors in our midst, Seven."

"I am aware, sir. But Vexen himself said that one Dusk could have malfunctioned, but it is beyond him as to why it would solely target the President. Should I interrogate him again?"

"No. I trust Vexen almost as much as I trust you, Saix. But one thing is for certain…_someone_ here ordered the Dusk to try and attack the President, thus revealing to the world of the creatures' existence. People can put two and two together, Seven! They will see a pattern in these attacks."

"What can we do?" asked Saix sadly, stopping his frantic walking.

"What can we do? We can keep a wary eye on our colleagues, Saix. A _very_ wary eye. Most specifically on Xigbar. I am now, too, suspicious of his anti-Organization behavior."

"I'll keep an eye on him with pleasure, Superior," muttered Saix. Then, he added: "Maybe you and I should get some sleep and see how we feel about it in the morning."

Surprisingly, the Superior laughed.

"No, Saix," said Xehanort, a malicious twinkle in his eye shining from the candlelight. "Gods don't sleep."

* * *

><p>Otto Oogie's house wasn't necessarily a mansion, but it was certainly close to being such, and Edward Truman marveled at its size whenever he came over for a visit. Three stories high plus a basement, quite a lot of property in all directions, a garage the size of Truman's bedroom, four bedrooms, two bathrooms, one hell of a nice kitchen, and a living room so warm and relaxing that it was the envy of most local housemothers in D.C.<p>

Edward had gotten into the house by using a key Otto kept in one of the flowerpots at the front door. He had walked into the living room to find Otto donning his burlap sack-mask, and conversing with three others in the room.

Otto looked up and beamed.

"Ethan!" he cried happily.

Apologetically, Truman corrected: "I'm sorry, Otto. Not to be rude to you, but it's Edward, not Ethan."

"Oh, God…My apologies! I truly am so sorry. Why have you let me say the wrong name all this time?"

"Well, we hardly talk in person. And an email correction would be…weird. Don't worry about it, though."

"Come, sit down next to me. I have some business associates over."

"Very well."

Truman sat down on the pearly-white couch next to the big man, and looked over the glass coffee table at the three "associates". One was a good-looking guy who looked rather bored with life (Truman could relate); the third was a woman, not the best-looking, who looked at Truman up and down and licked her lips seductively (Truman was not moved); the third, sitting next to the woman, was what appeared to be a man wearing a business suit and leather S&M "gimp" mask, complete with a closed zipper over his mouth.

Truman blinked once or twice, unsure of how to respond to these three strangers. It was like he was sitting at the geek table back in high school…but, of course, that had never happened to him. He had been quarterback of the football team, as well as the pitcher of the baseball team. He had had so many girlfriends in high school that he couldn't remember them all off the top of his head. Life was still like that.

Thank God.

"Eddie, m'friend," said Otto. "Let me first introduce you to my close friend, Mason Sephiroth."

Truman shook hands with the bored-looking man, Sephiroth, and gave him a grin. Sephiroth didn't return it.

"Mason here will be my highest-ranking lieutenant for the duration. He'll do a couple jobs for me, and in return he gets some of my soldiers and a nice penthouse in the city."

"Very cool," said Truman, attempting again to smile broad enough so Sephiroth would return it; again, the man didn't.

_Dick_, thought Edward Truman bitterly.

Otto continued, "This fine lady here is the niece of one of the most notorious U.S. criminals in history. Can you guess?"

Truman studied the girl, who stared right back with her lively green eyes. Her small, pink tongue poked out of her mouth again to wet her lips; Truman again ignored her come-on.

"You've got me," he said, smiling and shrugging.

"She is the niece of the late Dante Shell, better known as his moniker, 'Diz'."

"Son of a bitch! No fooling?"

"None at all," said the woman, smiling. "I'm Amy Maleficent."

"Nice to meet you, miss."

"_Very_ nice to meet you, Edward."

Truman gave a half-assed grin, then turned to the man in the gimp mask. "Who is this?" he asked.

Maleficent patted the man's leg and replied, "This is my second-in-command, Pete McLean. Say 'hi', Petey."

The man's leathered face nodded briefly as he grunted.

"Doesn't look like he does much commanding," said Truman, staring at the zippered mouth.

"Well, he does. He served under my uncle, as well."

Truman nodded. To Otto, he asked, "What's their business here?"

"Amy and Pete here have been trying to rebuild the Heartless."

"Oh? That right? How's that coming along?"

"Quite nicely," said Amy, grinning. Pete gave a grunt of agreement.

"Good to know. So why have you brought me here, Otto?" asked Truman. "My son had a football game tonight. As much as I enjoy our visits, I wasn't intending for this to be a tea party."

"It isn't," said Otto happily. "It's actually rather important. You see, Amy here has been rebuilding her uncle's empire quite sufficiently, but most importantly she's doing so quietly. Already she has a respectable system in New York but wanted to expand to D.C., and since I own a lot of the muscle in this town and have connections to you, she decided to pay me a visit and discuss a plan she's had."

Amy said firmly to Truman, "Mr. Truman, I propose that you and Otto here join what I like to call the Council. The Council is an alliance between those of us in power over an army of Heartless troops, Russian gangsters here in D.C. that Otto works with, and Otto's own troops. Everything is shared between the Council, with me getting the highest amount because it was all my idea and I have more men than both of you combined."

"Sounds interesting," said Truman, scratching his beard. "But where do I come into play?"

"We need you to be our U.S. government leech. Our men help fund your campaign, and all vote for you in the upcoming election. With you replacing that pussy Mouse's seat in the Senate, you hire our people into government jobs. They will become your personal soldiers. You will use you position to cover up any records of our misdeeds. For six years, we'll be working our asses off with you covering us, and raise enough money through drug trafficking, prostitution, hired assassinations, and the black market to make enough money for us to live off of for the rest of our lives, and enough money for our _children_ to live off of for the rest of _their_ lives."

Truman shook his head immediately. "Sounds too risky," he said. "And I associate myself only with businessmen, like Otto here. Not gangsters like you. I know your type. You like to break deals."

Amy laughed. "Too risky? Eddie, honey, you'd only be doing what's best for you and your son."

"What are the cuts in profit?"

"I make the most, like I said. That's only fair. I'd say a seventy-thirty cut would be reasonable. You and Otto can then split that thirty evenly."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Eddie, baby, relax. In three years' time, I expect to have something like four hundred million dollars in my pocket."

"Leaving me with only two million!" roared Truman.

"Two million dollars isn't enough for you? By the end of your term, you'll have four million dollars."

"With funds like that compared to yours, I'm broke, and you can afford to wipe me off of the planet. Otto, please tell me you didn't accept this offer."

Otto sighed and said to Maleficent slowly, "He's right, Amy. The income needs to go up."

"They will, Otto! They will!"

"My prostitution business? My pornography business? According to your standards, this would all be under the Council's employ, and you would own most of it. Say I refuse your offer, my businesses prosper beyond imaginable, and your empire falls flat on its face without a genius accountant like Mason here under your employ and you're left dead and raped in a fucking alleyway somewhere?"

Mason laughed cruelly and unexpectedly. All of them turned to face him.

Coolly, Sephiroth said to Amy, "The Heartless failed once because of their miscalculations. Risk-taking seems to run in the family, Maleficent, because Diz's outrageous behavior is starting to show in you. To offer two million to Ed here for a job that requires things you wouldn't dream of doing to carry out is childish. You act as though these billions of dollars are already yours, when your gang is nothing as of yet. You have too much confidence in your ability as a gang leader when there are others far better than you at the job."

Amy snarled. "Like who?"

"Someone."

The Heartless-witch bit her lip, uncomfortable. She spoke in a trembling voice, "That bitch can't beat me."

"Oho_ho_. Don't underestimate the Free God, Amy. I've met with her myself, and, trust me, we'd already be in business if _she_ were to be offering us an alliance. So get your sales pitch together quick."

Flustered, Amy spat back, "Oh, shut it, you piece of shit. Who are you to talk down to anyone? You're nothing. Shinra knew it, Fair knew it, I know it, and you fucking know it, too."

Mason stood up, offended. He roared, "Otto, maybe you should take and sell this bitch to the _really_ sick fucks who'll use that big mouth of hers as a motherfucking toilet for the rest of her miserable fucking life!"

Otto said softly, "Sit down, my old friend. Please, I'm asking it of you." Mason complied, and Otto asked Amy: "This is how you make deals? Insulting your partners? You have much to learn."

Amy sighed, ran her fingers through her hair, and silently began to think. Her reptilian eyes darted back and forth, as if they were running equations through an invisible calculator. Then, she leaned back in her seat.

"Okay," she said. "Alright. We will split the profits overall, fifty-fifty."

"No shit!" cried Truman happily. "Alright! That's more like it."

"Wait just a minute, Ed." Her eyes locked with Mason's. "In order to make this transaction, I want _him_ gone."

Mason hissed, "You _what_?"

Otto replied instantly: "No, Amy. Mason is an old childhood friend and business partner. If he's not a part of the Council, the likelihood of you killing him off will rise, and I will be most upset with you."

Frowning, Amy said, "If Sephiroth here stays, then I'm lowering the percentage on your part. He stays, he gets immunity, and I give you two forty-five percent of the Council's earnings."

"That's bullshit," whispered Otto.

"No, babe. That's _business_. Plus, that percentage might lower if anyone else is to join the Council."

"What the fuck does that mean?" yelled Truman. "'Anyone else'? Are you fucking high?"

"Not at all. I intend to create an ultimate alliance that will strike down any sort of opposition easily due to its influence."

Otto cleared his throat. Amy turned to him, eyebrows raised.

"I think," Otto said. "That I will join this Council, by myself, for thirty percent of the earnings made from everything besides my own businesses and deals with the Russian mob, and they will remain untouched by you and the Heartless."

"Hey, now…" began Truman, but Otto raised a hand to silence him.

Continuing, Otto said, "You will keep seventy percent of whatever else we may share, and as you recruit to the Council, my percentage will slightly decrease overtime. However, in order for me to make this deal, I want a couple of exceptions. First and foremost: Mason's immunity. If he is harmed by _any_ Heartless, I revoke my percentage and inform Ed here immediately, should he become Senator, and perhaps he'll be persuaded to take on former Senator Mouse's anti-Heartless movement, and you, who will have lost much of my earnings because of my pulling out—assuming for the duration it will be just us two— will be vulnerable to any patriotic American in any state and any city. Remember how your uncle's soldiers ran off like cowards when the government was hunting them down? The same fate may befall you and your men.

"My second demand is that, at the end of Ed's six years in the Senate, in a return-payment for covering your ass while you get rich, you _will_ pay for his son's college tuition, and you _will_ buy a private mansion for both of them on the shores of Hawaii. Should your funds be so low that you cannot pay for both of these things, either Truman or myself will start advertising for the anti-Heartless movement.

"My third and final demand is that I get to know other potential members of the Council before they actually join the Council. You will make the ultimate decision, but I would like to voice my opinions of them as your advisor.

"Those are my demands. You can either shake my hand and agree to them, or you can leave D.C. without any sort of influence here, and struggle with your finances in New York."

Amy stared at Otto's outstretched hand thoughtfully for a moment or two, then smiled and shook.

Truman grinned and said, "Alright. Excellent terms and conditions."

Mason nodded. "I agree. However, I find my lack of personal gain rather unappealing."

"I can't just hand out things, Mason," said Otto apologetically. "But, rest assured, you will get paid by me until you can figure out your situation with your family. However, I am the only member of the Council here now along with Amy and Pete, so I'm the only one with complete responsibility to it. You are merely my employee for the time being. Now, let me make you all drinks. I have a…guest downstairs in my basement who needs some attending to soon. It's been a long time since I've had a good gamble, oh yeah…"

Mason nodded slowly, however, he looked rather peeved.

Truman, however, was pleased with the way things turned out. All he had to do was cover up whatever couple of Heartless sightings there may be?

_Easy peasy, you bull-dyke_, he thought happily, looking at Amy. _Easy peasy lemon fucking squeezy._

He then remembered his son's football game and wondered how it went. He had to check, of course. His son _was_ the team's best quarterback. He pulled out his cell phone as Otto went to the kitchen to make drinks for everyone, and selected his top five list. He selected number one on there, for number one was his son: Curley. His name was Curley.

Curley Gaston Truman.

* * *

><p><strong>Oh, god, yes!<strong>

**So much action**. **Revel in it!**

**Has a nice day. :D**

**P.S. OMG, you gais, I'm actually updating more than one thing at one time. Twilight sucks though, which is why I mock it. Don't question my logic. Also, Horray for shameless self promoting!**


	7. When Life Gives You Lemons, Squeeze Them

**My, oh my, I feel like I've been scrambling lately. Midterms, and quizzes, and creative letters, oh my! Haji is here with another thrilling chapter. I apologize for being so late (again) and I feel like I say this every time. (Because I do.)**

**Anyway, I had to think on my toes for this chapter because I have way too much going on. I'm sure it'll work out, but I now have to start freaking out about my finals even though I just finished my midterms. College is the best thing in life, let me tell you…*sarcasm***

**Hey, all! DeadShut here. Haji did a fantastic job on this chapter, so make sure to thank her! It's gonna be hard to try and live up to this kind of professionalism, but I'll try my best. **

**However, rest assured, I will have more time to write because I am finishing up my first ever "album" of electronic, experimental, and atmospheric songs, which is (as of this moment) titled **_**Poor Therapy**_**. It will be available for free download once I am ready to release it (and break my low self-confidence when it comes to my music). Expect a link soon. **

**Thanks, all. Enjoy this splendid chapter. :D**

* * *

><p><strong>I used to be Commander in Chief,<strong>

**On my pimp ship flying high,**

'**Till I met this pretty little missile,**

**That shot me out the sky.**

**-Ne-yo**

The one thing in the world that was worse than high school as a whole for the typical American teen nerd, was a high school football game at the near end of the season. And not just any high school football game, the most important game of all: the championship with a rival high school that just happened to beat the crap out of the team last year. Tensions were high as fuck, and school spirit was at an all-time severity that led some of the student body to believe that the hype was more than just "Go, team, go!". Perhaps Mary Jane had something to do with it.

However, during the last ten seconds of the game, the home team—led by none other than Curley Gaston Truman—was literally ten yards away from scoring the winning touchdown. Gaston, who had wanted the glory for himself, planned to fake out the other team. He was giving commands for his team to act as if the ball were going to be passed, but in actuality, Gaston wanted to run the ball. He could run ten yards.

_Easy peasy, lemon fucking squeezy._

His dad always said that, and it annoyed him to no end to be quite honest, but that little saying was absolutely true in this situation. The air was chilly, for night had long fallen. Short bursts of fog jetted from each open mouth, both on the field and in the bleachers. The tension was astronomical…

"Blue forty-two!" Gaston cried.

_I've got this._

"Blue forty-six!"

_I've got this._

"Hike! Hike!"

His whole team lurched forward and clashed with the opponent in an audible crunch peppered with the grunts of teenaged monsters. Gaston moved back and pretended to hand the ball away, but he dashed forward, roaring his victory before he even crossed into the end zone. With just five seconds left, Gaston leaped over one of the few people blocking him, attempting to take the last few yards in a single bound. However, he had been stopped. He was tackled midflight and pinned under a rival. The clock froze.

Three seconds left.

By the looks of it, overtime was inevitable, but Gaston didn't want overtime. He wanted to squash this team in three seconds flat—without passing the ball. But the other team was aware of his little stunt now. He couldn't try to fake them out again or he would surely lose the game. But he couldn't do that. The scouts who had come to see him play wouldn't draft him if he lost.

_Fuck._

As the lines set up again, the stadium had fallen almost completely silent. There was more riding on this play than anybody could possibly imagine. Gaston made his call, he was handed the ball, and he flew.

Flew over the commotion of the lines confronting each other again, flew over all his opponents in a mighty leap of faith mixed with fear and courage, flew like a bird. And landed in the end zone with a soft thud. The stadium was silent, the air frozen solid, until a buzzer announced the end of the game.

"Gaston!"

Gaston, who had closed his eyes, opened them and he was confused. The stadium was still silent.

"Did we get it?" He asked.

He stood up. He looked to the bleachers, and waved the ball in the air like a flag. There was a click and a flash as the score board reflected the scored goal. Gaston was waiting for the cheers, but nothing came, and nothing came for a while. He was almost about to scream at the crowd for not cheering for him immediately. Did he not just win the game?

Then, there was this soft buzzing. It grew into a louder buzz, then an eruption of cheers, clapping, crying, and stomps. Cheerleaders spun out onto the field, cheering and chanting. The stadium suddenly came alive like someone had flipped a switch. People were running off the bleachers to lift the star onto their shoulders.

Gaston wallowed in their praise. He had just won the most important game of his whole high school career. He was going to get drafted to the best football college in the country, he was absolutely sure of it.

"Gas-ton! Gas-ton!"

The crowd chanted his name like he was a fucking god. And he was. He was a winner.

_Easy peasy, lemon fucking squeezy._

In the stands, however, three teenagers had not run out onto the field. They did not cheer as wildly as the rest of the crowd, and they certainly did not respect Gaston. Or at least two didn't.

"That was great!" Belle exclaimed as she flapped a school flag in Sora's face.

Sora pushed the flag away and grinned despite hating the whole game. It was his attempt at becoming normal, or trying to become normal, or something like that. He hated football with a burning passion, and because he also was not on friendly terms with Gaston, he detested it so much more. But Belle had invited him to the game, and he kind of liked being around her. That and he convinced Riku to let him stay out a little later.

Beside him sat Brett, who hated Gaston for a lot more than being a selfish, attention whore. He knew Gaston had the hots for Belle, and he didn't like that one bit. Not only because he knew Gaston would be bad for her, but also because he was jealous of the fact that he could say he liked her without sounding like a pretentious snarky git like him.

"It's getting late," Brett said.

Belle hugged him. "I guess that means you gotta go?"

Brett nodded. "Yeah, but I have to go congratulate the winners. And I have to go to my locker anyway.

"But," Sora asked, "isn't the school locked?"

Brett shrugged. "The locker room is open. It won't take me long to skirt around the corner and down the hall. I'll be fine."

Brett hopped down the bleachers and headed to the school. The crowds began to disperse, preparing to go home so they could post comments about the game on Twitter. He followed the football team into the school and snuck around the corner, just like he had intended. When he opened his locker, his loose papers scattered about the floor and he scrambled to shove them back in before anybody heard him.

He grabbed a textbook and tucked it under his arm. He had forgotten that he had homework and used Belle's invitation as an excuse to go to school to retrieve it. After he shut his locker door, Brett skirted through the halls and he tiptoed past the locker room. The door was ajar, and the rowdy conversation of the football jocks inside floated into the hall.

"You're the man, Gaston!" yelled one of the jocks. "You crushed them!"

"You bet your fucking ass I did!"

"What are you going to do to celebrate tonight?"

The locker room fell silent. The team was waiting with bated breath.

"Well, maybe, if I'm very lucky," Gaston started, "I'll coax Belle into my bed, and ring her bells if you know what I mean."

Brett ground his teeth. How dare that cocky motherfucker talk about Belle like that. How dare he. That motherfucker. Brett couldn't even consider _himself_ half a man unless he spoke up. He had to defend her honor. He kicked the locker room door open to find half a team half undressed. Even the smallest guy in the room had defined muscles that looked like they could rip through steel.

"Who the fuck are you?" snarled one of the jocks. He tensed his muscles threateningly.

Brett, who wanted to retreat, resorted to a snarky scowl and an arrogant drawl. "Oh, I'm just a fan who wanted to congratulate Gaston for winning."

Gaston looked at Brett, venom oozing from his glare. Brett waggled a finger at him.

"All hail the conquering young hero, Gaston."

Gaston jumped to his feet, ready to fight. Brett was just standing there, an open target. And, oh, how Gaston wanted to beat his face in. The one guy who stood between him and Belle's thighs. That bastard. He curled his hand into a fist and puffed out his chest.

Brett leaned against the doorway and folded his arms. He carried his textbook in a relaxed clutch, but held it at the ready, just in case Gaston decided to try something funny. Gaston looked at Iggy, one of his best teammates. Iggy nodded at him and Gaston rushed after Brett. Brett easily dodged his attacker and grinned at him.

"You know, gorillas get angry and attack blindly too."

Gaston spun around and grabbed for Brett. He missed, and he lunged again before Brett had the chance to gather himself together. He tore Brett's collar, and pulled him closer, balling up his other hand. He raised his fist to bury it in Brett's mouth, but Iggy stopped him.

"The fuck you stopping me for?"

"Coach," Iggy whispered.

From a back office, a tall middle aged man came with a huge gold trophy. Atop the trophy was a figurine of a football player. Inscribed on a tiny gold plate was the name the high school and the name of the team.

"We did it, guys!"

Gaston leaned in Brett's face, growling quietly, "You're one lucky little bitch tonight, Brett. You better watch yourself."

Brett stuck his tongue out childishly, "Every damn day, Truman. Just do it."

He pulled away from Gaston and spun on his heels. He didn't bother trying to hide as he boldly strode out the doors to the football field. Most of the crowd had left, but Brett didn't feel like dealing with the people who still lingered. Belle and Sora had long gone; they were probably at home by now. Brett ducked under the bleachers and slipped through without anybody noticing.

He jumped the low fence at the edge of the school's property and hurried down the street. It was pitch black without the streetlights on. Brett was unafraid, though. Going to school in Washington D.C. meant that sometimes, things weren't so rose colored like the crooked politicians made it seem. D.C. was a ghetto. It just had a bunch of white buildings and monuments.

But it was still a ghetto.

After a long time of silence, Brett began to grow suspicious. D.C. was never this quiet. No sirens? No houselights? No cops? Nothing? It seemed highly improbable that it would be this peaceful anywhere. Brett shuddered and decided to change his route. He thought that the silence was a sign that he was going the wrong way home. But, it was no big deal, he could just go the long way. He only had to backtrack to the school again and take a different street.

No big deal.

By the time Brett made it back to the football field, the fans were gone, the lights were turned out, and the air was still, resting from being disturbed for so long. It was so eerie that Brett couldn't help but laugh hysterically as he traversed down a different, smaller street. He couldn't understand it, but the feeling of being alone felt so familiar, and that suspicious feeling he had before dissipated.

It was funny that loneliness suited him.

As his laughter faded into silence, he noticed that he had traveled down the street a lot farther than he realized. He was almost home. He had expected it to take longer, but he supposed the loneliness was so fitting that it didn't seem like a chore to walk the long way.

He was almost tempted to laugh again.

However, it stopped in his throat when he saw a group of about five guys standing on the corner a block away from his house. They weren't doing anything in particular, no, they were just standing. That was allowed. There was nothing wrong with that. Brett blinked a couple of times, suddenly feeling this nervous twinge in his chest. Like they were standing there _waiting _for something…or someone.

But that wasn't a big deal either. Brett had seen plenty of drug dealers around. Maybe they were just a small gang trying to make some sales before the cops came around. Brett sure wasn't a cop, and the textbook in his hand wasn't suspicious in the least. Generally, if one left the drug dealers alone, they wouldn't mess with anybody. There would be no reason to fear them.

Brett was no threat.

He paused only slightly before crossing the street diagonally. He didn't want to make it seem that he was avoiding them even though he was. They didn't move or look after him. He was in the clear, until he heard one of them speak.

His voice carried over in the night air easily, and it was only three words that sent Brett's heart into a panic, for he knew that it wasn't going to end well. It took only three words for him to realize that the group of guys was waiting for _him._

"He's finally here."

Brett quickened his pace. He didn't dare look back, but he could hear their voices following him. Low grunts and snickers, whispers in the night. They were after him, and he had more than a slight idea of who it was. Gaston. It had to be.

He could escape them before they got too close though, he knew it. He cut through an alleyway, and hopped over a couple of wooden fences, trying to lose them as quickly as possible without arousing any alarm. If he could make it home without incident, they would have no choice but to retreat until tomorrow morning. By that time, Brett would be a little more prepared. Right now he was off guard.

As he hurried, he heard them quicken their pace as well. The soft thuds of their feet hitting dirt and grass grew louder the faster Brett moved. He weaved in an out of the thin alleyways that separated the houses, hoping to lose them. And he didn't slow. Not until he was directly across the street from his house. He had lost them in the tunnel of fences and backyards.

He was safe.

Until he took one step into the street, where he was clotheslined from behind. He felt a beam of muscled meat slam the back of his head, and he faltered, seeing stars dance in his eyes. He dropped his textbook and spun around, throwing his weight into a blind punch, hoping that he'd be able to hit the motherfucker who ambushed him. He felt a jaw under his fist, but he was tackled before he could prepare himself to hit again.

The cement was cold and hard. His head, already pounding from the first assault, split open and he writhed in pain. Oh God how it hurt so fucking bad. He scrambled around, losing his breath as a foot buried itself in his stomach. Suddenly the taste of copper was the only thing on his mind.

"You little motherfucker," a voice growled. "You-little-mother-fucker—"

With every word, Brett felt the wind knocked out of him again. Short quick punts. One. Two. Three. Four. He couldn't defend himself. He was blind, shaken, outnumbered and out matched. He could only take it. If an opportunity to fight back was there, he couldn't see it.

Brett grit his teeth, and when the assault had ceased, he cracked an eye open. Gaston picked him up by his torn collar, tearing it from his shirt completely and he shook him.

"You think you're so tough?" Gaston punched Brett in the face. "You think you're better than me? Huh? Do you?"

Brett sputtered through another punch in the face. As soon as he was given a chance to speak, he muttered clumsily. "I know I'm better than you. You're just a hothead with a hard on."

Gaston's response was another punch. Brett spit out a mouthful of blood and grinned.

"Go ahead, I know you can hit harder than that," Brett said, giggling madly. "You're the champion football jarhead. Certainly you can hit me harder than that."

Gaston dropped him, but did not strike. Brett struggled to his feet, barely being able to handle the pain in his legs and body.

"You're a fucking idiot," Brett said carefully. "I know who you are, asshole. Unless you kill me, everyone will know who did this to me."

Gaston smirked. "Oh, you think so?"

Brett chuckled. "I know so."

Gaston kicked Brett's feet from under him, and he crashed into the pavement again. He heard something click, and was sure that his arm fractured. Gaston stepped on his hand.

"I know you have the hots for Belle," Gaston breathed. "I know that you 'love' her. And I know that you would do anything to protect her."

Brett gasped as Gaston leaned more weight on his hand.

"So, if you tell anybody that I did this, not only will I bash your puke face in again, but Belle might lose her innocence. Because I'd take it from her. Whether she likes it or not."

Brett whimpered as quietly as he could. Gaston crushed his hand and kicked him one last time before retreating with his cronies. Brett hated every single one of them. They did nothing to stop Gaston—nothing. Even when he could see that one of them was afraid that Gaston was going to kill him, he didn't speak up. Those motherfuckers. He waited a long time before picking himself up again. Pain shot through his whole body.

As he limped across the street to his house, he felt his hands and face bruising and swelling. He was certain that he looked like some kind of beast. A monster with a beaten face, fractured hands and gnarled knots punched in his body. He felt sick and vomited right before trudging up his front steps and ringing the doorbell weakly. Before his parents could open the door, he fainted and cracked his head on the wood, breaking his nose.

And when his mother saw her son bloodied and broken, she shrieked and cried.

"My baby!"

* * *

><p>She was tired. Oh, yes, she was tired. Her dark eyes were lined with purple, and her skin had paled considerably. She blinked slowly, almost as if she were going to close her eyes and drift off into a dream world, but she did not. Across from her was a woman who was just as tired, but more from jet lag than anything else.<p>

"So, the Golden Coast, huh?" Aqua asked.

Yuffie nodded. "Yeah, much better than any fucking Free God. Or Someone. What a pretentious nickname. So mysterious and shit."

Aqua narrowed her eyes. She and Yuffie were in the company of Tifa, though Tifa said not a word.

"Why did you want me?" Aqua growled."I haven't the time or the patience to deal with a newbie."

Yuffie smirked. "You and I seem to have a little bit of an issue with each other."

"Is it that obvious?"

"I want to work with you," Yuffie said quickly. "You apparently are cock-blocking me, and I don't like that."

Aqua glared at Tifa. "Oh, I wonder where she got that idea."

Tifa frowned. "Don't look at me like that. I'm just here to make sure you don't kill her."

Aqua tensed, as did Yuffie. They looked at each other, then looked away. They were sitting in a luxurious hotel room. It was beautifully decorated with the deepest red and blue linens and the curtains, which were just as elegant, were drawn. Aqua had wanted privacy.

"We should get on good terms with each other," Yuffie said, nonchalant. "I mean, you have no idea who I am and you challenge me like I'm some simpering idiot."

"That's because you are."

"Tifa," Yuffie whined, "you see how she treats me? I didn't even do anything to her."

Tifa frowned. "Listen, how about we work out a compromise? _You_ work out a compromise? I think that you both have your faults—hell, we all do—but this is about working together, remember? We don't want to get caught up in anything that has to do with the police because we decide that we want to try to out deal each other," she looked at Yuffie. "Or try to draw attention from people who are higher up on the ladder," she looked at Aqua. "It's not kosher.

"You two are at a standstill, and I'm here to inform you also of what the standing of the empires is. Since everybody exchanges information about the two of you between the coasts, I've got a pretty good idea about what's going on." Tifa stood up slowly. "Please correct me if I am wrong."

Aqua folded her arms, as did Yuffie.

Tifa paced around the two seats. She spoke slowly, deliberately, making sure to not say anything that would confuse anybody.

"I'll start with the East Coast since there seems to be a lot of movement. Starting after the destruction of the Hotel, Aqua, real name Angelina Godfrey, The Free God and Someone, has put a complete and total freeze on all sales within her empire. She has also convinced some distributors in Florida—who are not obligated based on their unclaimed territory to listen to her—to avoid moving product to any other ports. A complete shutdown. The reasoning behind this is yet to be determined, but it may have something to do with Julian Fair.

"Crime rates have skyrocketed because the product is getting harder to obtain. I've heard that there might be war soon, but the enemies have not been identified within the empire. I would assume that the recent Heartless extermination might have had something to do with it, but I'm not sure. Is there anything false about this, Someone?"

Aqua shook her head.

"Fine then, let me move on.

"The West Coast, under the control of Yuffie, real name Yolanda Brecht, The Golden Coast, is in the midst of internal turmoil. Based on the uprooting of Rufus Shinra's permanent residence, the traffic has shifted drastically to the East Coast. Many sellers and distributors are trying to move east to gain access to the amazing political influence that Shinra has even though he is not a politician, and does not have any public affiliations with any organizations.

"Rufus does, however, have a business influence similar if not exactly like Julian Fair's. This has caused unrest in the west. They are showing their discomfort by moving to an area where they know they will be prosperous—the East Coast. This is causing tension in the east because we all know how Aqua feels about her territory.

"I am suspicious of Shinra because he recently purchased a small security company within my territory—the midstates. The company he bought specializes in intelligence gathering and item security. I don't like it when powerful people who are not under our control have access to private police forces. I am concerned that he might try to make a move to hinder or catch us."

Aqua shifted slightly in her seat. She had suddenly felt a twinge in her gut that brought about a wave of nausea. She cleared her throat.

"I don't think we'll have to worry about Shinra."

Yuffie huffed. "And why not? It's clear that he's going to try and stop us from doing what we do. I say we kill him."

"And risk outing ourselves?" Aqua asked. "Are you stupid?"

Yuffie stood up. "Don't you call me stupid."

Aqua remained seated. "Killing Shinra is not going to help. In fact, it would make it worse for us."

Tifa sighed. "You two need to figure out how you're going to handle the shift in power. Aqua, at the rate your assets are growing in number, you'll have to expand your territory soon, which means moving south. Florida has no affiliations right now, but if you try to make a move, you will have a war on your hands. A war that neither I nor Yuffie are interested in helping you with.

"The only thing I could suggest is trying to get west coast distributors to stay out of your region. I would take Philadelphia back, and turn it into your new main facility. New York City is getting crowded with upcoming elections, and I doubt that Mouse's replacement will be as forgiving with you around. I heard Mouse doesn't want you around anymore anyway."

Aqua frowned. "Where'd you hear that?"

"Coolidge."

Aqua huffed. "Fuck me."

"You see, I can get along with my Senator because I'm not so deeply involved with my businesses," Tifa explained. "He and I have an agreement, just like I'm sure you and Mouse do, and Yuffie and her Senator. It's all about give and take. As soon as he is reelected, I have a lot of bouncing around I have to do. Which is why I'm leaving you two alone."

Yuffie frowned. "That's not fair. What will we do without our Mediator?"

"You'll have to figure it out," Tifa said simply. "Things are changing. Whether it's for the better, I don't know yet."

Aqua stood up. "I think I'm going to handle the Shinra-Fair problem. There's no doubt that Julian and Rufus are up to something. I'll take care of that. I'm letting you know though, it won't be pretty. I'll have to separate myself from Julian, and I think in order to do that, I'll need to take advantage of his son."

Tifa raised an eyebrow. "His son?"

Aqua nodded. "Yes, I think that I might be able to get Julian to back off completely if I can use his son to prod at Rufus. But, I need you to not interfere."

Tifa blinked slowly. "What kinds of things do you plan to do?"

"Whatever it takes."

Yuffie folded her arms. "I'm not going to let you take anything that belongs to me."

Aqua chuckled. "That's fine. But when your empire crumbles because you don't know how to do your job, I will not be there to help you."

Tifa sighed again. "I think we can all at least be in agreement that we can let Aqua do what she needs to in order to get rid of Julian Fair and Rufus Shinra. All in agreement? Say aye."

"Aye," Aqua said quickly.

"Aye," Tifa repeated.

Yuffie eyed Aqua, then Tifa and muttered under her breath, "Aye."

Tifa clapped her hands together and grinned. "Great! Now that business talk is over, let's go out for drinks. I'm buying."

Yuffie perked up. "Sure."

Aqua smiled briefly. "As much as I would love to, I'll pass this time around."

Tifa frowned. "Aww, but we never get to talk about anything else besides business. We can be friends for one night, can't we? Pretend that the world doesn't revolve around drugs, guns, and prostitution?"

Aqua chuckled again. "I suppose maybe one day we can. Ask me in a few months. Maybe I'll feel like it then."

Tifa crossed her arms. "I guess. So, until next time?"

Aqua nodded and opened the hotel door. "Yeah, until next time."

As she exited the hotel, a sudden cloud hovered over her. She had to get to work as soon as possible if she was going to get out of the game. And it was all going to start with Zack. She had to time everything correctly. It was almost too late for her.

She hailed a taxi, and when she shut the door after getting in, she pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed.

"Do you have the newspaper?" she asked.

The cab driver turned around and handed Aqua a folded newspaper. When he eased back into his seat, Aqua noticed the tiny black "A" tattooed just behind his ear. She was safe. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. The taxi pulled away from the hotel and into traffic, and it was a whole five minutes of silence before she opened her phone and dialed a number.

"Hey, Angelina! How's it goin'?"

Aqua sniffed quietly and smiled. "Hey, I was wondering if you were busy."

"Not really. Just waiting for you to come get me."

"Sorry I took so long. My meeting ran a little longer than I had expected."

"It's okay."

Silence.

"I was thinking about that thing you asked me," Aqua said. "About you showing me that you're not like your father."

"Yeah?"

"Well, I think I'd like to see that."

"Really? I mean, yeah, that's cool."

Aqua giggled. "So, you wanna go when I come get you?"

"Yeah, that's cool."

"I'll be there soon."

"I'll be waiting for you."

As Zack hung up the phone, his insides burned with happiness. After trying and failing many times to ask Aqua out, he was finally getting his chance. He could barely contain himself. He could have just about shouted it from the rooftops. Now all he had to do was dress in something that made him look cool and mysterious.

_This is the happiest day of my life._

And that was the truth.

* * *

><p>The United States government did not like to let other governments—or their own people for that matter—know what was going on when something catastrophic—such as the recent attack on the President of the United States—happened on local television. No sooner had the attack happened did the government take the tapes of the attack and every cell phone of every person within the area for analysis. They contracted the best scientists of the age to undertake the duty of figuring out just what the Christly fuck that grey humanoid was. They had the body completely intact save for the holes ripped through it by the gunfire that had rained upon it.<p>

Appointed head of the scientific team was Dr. Francis Ayrton, leading bioengineer and human anatomist. He was responsible for a lot of the recent strides in prosthetics. And his assistant, Dr. Melrose Scripter, was hired as well. She was one of the best assistants Dr. Ayrton had. They had been provided a temporary laboratory in Scranton until the government had enough time to find another, more secretive place for their studies. As Dr. Ayrton and Dr. Scripter examined the Dusk's lifeless body, two men from the Secret Service stood in the room, listening to the two doctors share their observations.

"Well, it's definitely humanoid," Dr. Ayrton said. "Its construction is remarkable. Very toned and streamline."

"Do you think someone built it?" Dr. Scripter asked.

"Maybe, but its skeletal structure is very human in development. See the way the wrists are? And the spinal cord?"

Dr. Scripter gasped softly. "They're curved."

"Like a fetus," Dr. Ayrton finished. "I think this used to be a baby. And then some sicko mutated it."

Dr. Scripter frowned. "But, it is a genius design. Its skin is hard, but flexible, and its muscular system is far more advanced than our own."

"That would explain its movement," Dr. Ayrton said. "But, you see it has no eyes. And no normal mouth."

"Perhaps, whoever did this to the fetus, mutated it before its eyes were fully developed. And the mouth could just be a fluke in the mutation. I think the fetus might have been a few months old. At least three. Maybe even four or five. I can't really tell."

Dr. Ayrton thumbed his chin. "Maybe its sensory organs are far more advanced as well. It has no eyes, no lids, no nothing. Maybe it could feel through its skin."

"How could we test that?" Dr. Scripter asked. "The thing is dead. We would need one alive. Do you think we could try cloning it?"

Dr. Ayrton smiled thoughtfully. "Yes, that actually might help answer a lot of the questions we have. We can't figure out its motivations, wants, desires, and needs by examining a dead body. Hell, we can't even tell if it _has_ those things by looking at a dead body."

"I'll collect samples," Dr. Scripter said as she cut skin away and drew what little blood that was still left. It was a very rich red, dark and thick. "Maybe it's still good. And we can run some other tests on it."

"Now, let's crack this thing open and see what makes it tick."

Dr. Ayrton handed the two Secret Service agents smocks and gloves. After dressing himself and washing his hands thoroughly, he set up a small plate of tools: scalpels, saws, and scissors durable enough to cut through several layers of skin at once. He made the first incision right where a heart would have been, and when he pried the skin apart, his face lit up like a cityscape in the night.

"Amazing!"

The Dusk's body, when exposed in the way that it was, was exceptionally complicated. It had very little bone structure. What few bones it did have were centered mostly in a spinal cord like piece that bent easily as Dr. Ayrton probed around.

"Its skeletal structure is unlike anything I've ever seen in a land dwelling creature. The spine looks like it is made of cartilage or maybe even something else entirely. Very similar to the design of a shark. I'd say that's how come it can maneuver so swiftly.

"The appendages appear strong and very…what's the word? Catapult like? With loose fitting joints. Muscles well developed and limber. Knees and elbows have ball and socket joints as opposed to hinged like a human's, but the head bears an uncanny resemblance to us."

Dr. Ayrton cut deeper into the Dusk. The natural decomposition process, though slowed due to being kept in a cooler, did not prevent the pooling of most of the blood in the opened cavities along its backside. As Dr. Ayrton removed the organs that were still intact, the blood seeped out and dripped into the floor. It was black as night.

"Oh, interesting," Dr. Scripter whispered. "It doesn't seem to have a normal circulatory system. The veins are so tiny…"

"And infused in the muscles so closely that it forms a protective barrier. It can move so quickly and freely without limitations because everything is attached to the skin. The organs float so to speak within their 'casing'. My god, this is genius." Dr. Ayrton paused. "Absolutely fucking genius."

Dr. Scripter frowned, feeling at once a forbidden sense of hatred that was inexplicable. "This thing is a monstrosity."

"But the things we could learn from it. It would be even better if it were alive. Then we could study its movements."

"I don't think we should clone it," Dr. Scripter confessed. "Something feels not right about this thing. There is something unholy about it. It makes my skin crawl. I don't think I'm excited anymore."

"Why not?"

"How long has this thing been dead?" Dr. Scripter asked the Secret Service agents.

One agent looked at his watch. "Twelve hours."

Dr. Scripter motioned for Dr. Ayrton to look within a part of the Dusk's body that he hadn't examined yet. In the lower abdomen, where a stomach, the pancreas, and two kidneys nestled within the twists of the intestinal track would have been, there was a bulbous sac. It seemed stagnant, but after a few moments, it pulsed.

"What in the world?"

Dr. Scripter backed away. "I don't like this, Francis. I want to leave."

"Dr. Scripter, this is fabulous!" Dr. Ayrton exclaimed. "Do you know what this looks like? Do you?"

"I want to leave."

"Amazing! Dead for half the day, but can still carry life. That's impossible," Dr. Ayrton muttered. "This is an unprecedented leap in the scientific community. I must be dreaming. Dr. Scripter, tell me I'm dreaming. Tell me we didn't just make this discovery. Bloody fantastic."

Dr. Scripter backed away from the table as the sac, which was immediately identified as some sort of womb-like organ when Dr. Ayrton prodded it a little, pulsed again. It shifted in place and by the time whatever creature that existed within the fluid filled sac decided it was going to emerge, there was a loud crash just outside the door.

One of the Secret Service agents pulled away from the door and drew his gun. The lights flickered menacingly. There was silence for a long time, and then another crash.

"What the fuck is going on?" Dr. Scripter cried.

"We must have angered them," Dr. Ayrton said. He looked at the dead Dusk. "There have got to be more than just the one. We've angered them."

There was a tittering echo in the ceiling, and the second agent pulled out his gun and fired into the ceiling tiles after the sound. When the gunfire recoil quieted, the sound resumed. A loud thud against the door drove the level of uncertainty and fear to a point that had not been reached by any person in that room before. Dr. Ayrton froze in place, straining to listen for the other creatures that he knew were out there. He _knew_ they were out there.

Dr. Scripter moved back farther. The lights flickered again and something heavy move across the ceiling tiles. Both the agents looked up. The buzz of the fluorescents dominated the room, and not a breath was drawn.

"Help me!"

A furious and desperate knocking on the door broke the buzzing. The man on the other side sounded petrified. His desperation could be felt. Everybody's hearts dropped into their stomachs—including the two Secret Service agents, who began to tremble visibly.

"Please!" the man cried. "Help me!"

It didn't take long for his voice to be silenced. Dr. Ayrton suppressed a smile. The other grey creatures were here. At least two of them. Maybe, if he was lucky and whatever god that was in existence was watching over him, he could see these monsters in motion before he was torn apart.

The Secret Service agents did not approach the door. The sound of heavy dragging filtered through the door and a minute later—amid another panic attack on behalf of one of the agents—a Dusk fell through the weakened ceiling tiles and landed just behind the largest agent, severing his head from his body in one sweep. Another burst through the door and ravaged the other one before he had the chance to defend himself.

Chaos ensued as Dr. Scripter opened her mouth and screamed in terror. One Dusk silenced her and the other fled. As Dr. Scripter fell to the floor, broken and bloodied, Dr. Ayrton didn't move. He was utterly enthralled by the presence of the Dusk, and didn't want to ruin his only chance in life to see the miracles of human bioengineering at its finest.

Surprisingly, the Dusk did not attack him. It merely watched him, swaying on its legs. After determining that Dr. Ayrton was not a threat, it turned its attention to the dead Dusk on the table. It nuzzled through the flesh and removed the sac of fluid from its abdomen. Dr. Ayrton drew breath quietly.

The Dusk dropped the sac on the floor and tore it open with its jagged teeth. The fluids inside pooled under its feet and a small creature wriggled around, crying. The sound was haunting. A mixture between a human baby's cry and a dying animal's wail. The larger Dusk clicked at it and picked it up. It no longer paid attention to Dr. Ayrton and instead gnawed a hole in Dr. Scripter's stomach, dropping the infantile Dusk in her body, where it instantly devoured all the flesh it could as quickly as possible.

The slurping of blood and chewing of flesh would have scarred a lesser man, but Dr. Ayrton was not deterred. In fact, it was amazing what he was witnessing. The birth of a child. He dare not call it a thing or a monster. Its behavior was distinctly human. Taking care of the offspring. Its displays of intelligence were wondrous.

_Thank you, God, _he thought. _Thank you for this opportunity to see that all is not lost._

And in that moment, the larger Dusk killed Dr. Ayrton, scooped up the child Dusk in its mouth and fled into the night, back into Scranton. All was not lost so it seemed in the eyes of the doctor.

But, in reality, yes it was.

* * *

><p>"And just who do you think you are?"<p>

Lock, after talking to Jack Skellington, the best party planner around, was visiting Otto with his two best friends and siblings, Shock and Barrel. The three of them, though idiotic when it came to the actual party planning business, knew how to play both sides of the field to make it appear that they knew what the fuck they were doing. Max Deere was out of commission thanks to them, but as they were sitting in Otto's living room, the bored looking man who sat with them made all three of them uneasy. Lock more so than the others.

The bored looking man, Mason Sephiroth, ignored Lock's question. He was there because Otto requested that he stay for a while. Though, in reality, he wasn't really interested. Being in D.C. meant that he was not in New York trying to find the Free God and definitely not doing anything to kill Julian Fair and Rufus Shinra. He was in a rather terse mood because of that.

"Hey, pretty boy," Lock said. "I'm talking to you."

"I'm not interested in you," Sephiroth answered. "You'll be wasting five minutes of my life if you talk to me. There's a high chance you'd fuck up your little deal you got if you tried to engage me in conversation. I would suggest staying quiet. "

Lock pursed his lips.

"Come now, Mason," Otto said, entering the room and shaking Sephiroth's hand. "Lock, Shock, and Barrel are good 'associates' of mine."

Sephiroth's expression did not change. "They're high risk with nothing to lose." He eyed each of them. "The worst combination imaginable besides low risk with everything to gain. I wouldn't take that kind of chance. Not for all the money in the world. Not again."

"This is why you and I are such good friends," Otto said. "I'll be with you shortly."

"Fine," Sephiroth breathed.

Lock stood up and followed Otto. When Lock was out of the room, Barrel laughed. Sephiroth was still unfazed.

"Why are you such a tightass, mister?" Barrel waved at him, grinning. "I mean, you are so mean to my brother, it almost makes me want to fight you."

"Then fight me."

Shock grunted at Sephiroth's response. "You're an asshole."

"There's a forty percent chance you might be right."

Barrel snorted. "You know, we're much smarter than you think we are. You think you're better than us, don't you?"

Sephiroth was silent.

Shock quickly grew agitated. "You know, we're the ones who kidnapped Max Deere. We did that. And nobody knows."

Sephiroth almost laughed at them. "Oh, look, this is me not giving a shit. Lock must be the smart one in your trio then. I guessed as much."

Shock and Barrel looked at each other, incredulous. Sephiroth frowned.

"You two better listen to your brother. He'll lead you in the right direction for the time being."

Sephiroth folded his arms and not even ten minutes later did Lock and Otto come back. Lock looked excited, as did Otto. A deal must have happened. Sephiroth stood up.

"Your siblings are idiots," he said. "It might do you a world of good to teach them when to brag."

Lock frowned instantly. "What are you talking about?"

Sephiroth pointed to himself. "What if there was a ten percent chance that I was a cop? Or a one percent chance that I was a snitch? Your siblings are idiotic and don't know when to shut the hell up. Wasting five minutes of my life may have just cost you your freedom."

At this, Otto, too, frowned, and underneath was a seething anger as he turned his attention to Shock and Barrel. He narrowed his eyes ever so slightly before turning back to Sephiroth.

"My friend, you are a sharp one as always," he said. "I'll be sure to take care of them. You are right, if there was even a slight chance that you would take advantage of their stupidity, I would be very worried indeed. But, I know that you're a good man, yes. I trust you."

Otto dismissed Lock and his siblings. Lock looked like he was about to commit mass murder and when they were out of sight and out of earshot, he kicked both of them in their behinds.

"What did I tell you about being quiet?" he snarled. "You've fucked me, both of you."

Otto chuckled. "It seems that you and I have some business to attend to then, right? You don't look too happy to be here."

Sephiroth blinked slowly. "I want you to help me find Someone. I think she needs me."

"Of course, of course," Otto replied. "Come to my office, my friend. We have much to discuss."

Sephiroth obliged. All part of the plan.

* * *

><p>Kairi—even though she had a ton of work to do, and was still feeling the stabs of betrayal and hurt in her heart from Sora's childish breakup—was eagerly awaiting Felix to come back. They were on the same train, and he had promised to meet her for dinner. Her heart fluttered every time someone opened the door to the dinner car. How could she be so excited?<p>

This was teenager stuff. But she was still technically a teenager, right? Nineteen, that's a teenager.

"Excuse me, m'lady, is this seat taken?"

Kairi looked up and Felix was standing right there, looking handsome and suave. How could she have missed him? Was she not looking frantically for him? Her shyness got the better of her.

"Uh, yeah—I mean, no."

Felix chuckled. "Make up your mind, sweetheart, or I'll unfriend you on Facebook."

Kairi blushed. "I don't have a Facebook."

Felix sat down. "How could you not want strangers stalking you? It's the most magical thing in the world."

Kairi snickered. "Is this still you putting in an effort? Or are you being direct?"

"That depends…" Felix smiled and leaned forward. "Is it working?"

Kairi arched an eyebrow. "I don't know yet."

"How about this?" Felix offered, copying Kairi's arched eyebrow skepticism. "I'll pay for dinner because I'm a gentleman of the highest caliber, then you and I have a conversation about anything and everything, and then I officially ask you out on a date. Does that sound good to you?"

Kairi hesitated. She had just broken up with Sora not even a whole day ago. Or rather, he had broken up with her, over a voicemail…and yet she couldn't quite grasp what she thought or how she felt about it. Accepting a date from someone she just met seemed like an irresponsible thing to do.

But isn't that what she did with Sora?

She had just met him after his parents had been kidnapped. She traipsed around with him, figuring out the evils of the world, sneaking behind Riku's back even though she knew he wouldn't have approved at the time. She took his virginity, watched him grow up too quickly, and watched him regress when he returned to "normal" life.

But Felix was grown. She could see that. He could be level with her without sparing his personality. He was straightforward, normal, charming and clever. He didn't seem at all turned off by her newly acquired emotional baggage, and he made her laugh. Something she hasn't been able to truly do for a while.

This made her instantly confused and depressed.

"That was me being direct," Felix said, frowning slightly. "Obviously it was the wrong approach to the situation." He paused. "And now I feel like a dick."

"Oh, no, it's not you," Kairi said quickly. "I was just…I—"

"Can't believe how charming I am?" Felix asked slyly.

Kairi was taken aback by his response. For some reason, she found it unimaginably funny. Why? She didn't know, but Felix grinned at her laughter and when she accidentally snorted, she covered her mouth.

"Oh my god," she said, "I can't believe I just did that."

Felix laughed. "That was just about the cutest thing I've ever seen."

Kairi tried to stifle her giggles, but she was failing so miserably.

"Okay, let's eat something before we die of starvation and laughter," Felix said.

After a short bout of relaxed silence, Felix and Kairi placed their orders and were delivered their food a few minutes afterward. Kairi felt much better and "normal" and didn't feel like she was betraying or cheating on anybody. She was a free agent, and she couldn't help but enjoy Felix's company. He had the most amazing smile she's seen on anybody. So innocent and genuine.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" Felix asked suddenly.

Kairi took a bite of her dish—an exquisite four cheese ravioli—and nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose so. As long as you don't ask about past boyfriends, horrible job experiences, or religion, I don't have a problem with it."

Felix smirked. "Are you gonna give me a lecture on why your job is so important?"

Kairi swallowed. "What? You're kidding, right? I was only joking about that."

Felix shook his head.

Kairi smiled at him. "Sure, do you want it over the phone or in person?"

"I don't know, which one do you think would be more taboo?"

"It depends."

"On what?"

Kairi blushed again and looked away. "I don't want to say it." God, why was she so shy? This surely had to be work of the devil.

"Well, then, yes, I will definitely do so," Felix said. "Here, I'll give you my number, and then I'll excuse myself to bathroom."

"I was just kidding!"

Felix looked her straight in the eye. "I know."

Kairi turned her head away. "I'm being a complete social awkward turtle today."

"Is it possible that you may also be of the teenage mutant ninja kind?"

"Teenage mutant ninja social awkward turtle?"

"Best show on earth!" Felix cried.

People around them began to stare. Their conversation was so full of laughter and satire that they had become the center of attention. Some of the younger diners were trying hard not to laugh at them, especially since their conservative parents were hushing them.

Kairi placed her fork on her empty plate. "Could you excuse me?"

"Need to powder your nose?"

Kairi smiled. "Well, I need to be more presentable. I'm just going to change. No business clothes."

"Take the business out of that sentence and give me a heart attack, Miss."

"You're such a dork," Kairi said teasingly.

Felix scratched absently at his beard as soon as Kairi had left the car. Some of the other diners left as well, for they had finished their food, but there was one couple who was sitting across from him. The woman stared at him. She looked like she wanted to either scold him or hit him. He couldn't really tell.

_Oh goodness, _he thought. _She's about to start something._

"Excuse me," the woman said.

Felix pretended not to notice her. He didn't feel like letting her ruin his mood. He was playing a game with a charming young woman who just happened to be connected to the very man he was looking for. Though he hadn't anticipated liking her so much. She was just the sweetest most adorable thing he had ever laid eyes on. He was messing around a little bit. He was still young enough to do so.

"Excuse me," the woman said a little louder.

The rest of the car was empty. Everybody except for Felix and the opposing couple had gone. Felix glanced at the door. Maybe he could get them to shut the fuck up before Kairi came back. Sweet Kairi.

Felix acknowledged the woman. "What do you want?"

"You're a disgusting man," she said flatly. "Talking the way you did. That's no way to treat a lady."

"Listen, I don't have a problem with you," Felix replied venomously. "Mind your own business."

"You talk to her like you think we can't figure you out. Like we don't know what you're talking about at all. We're not that stupid." The woman huffed. "There were _children_ here."

"And I entertained them with the thought of having ninja, turtle, and mutant in the same sentence. Hop off."

The woman bit her tongue and looked away. The man patted her shoulder and whispered something in her ear. Felix guessed it was something about not starting anything. Maybe even something about them being young once before. He was a smart man.

When Kairi came back, she was wearing "normal" clothes. Simple jeans and a tee-shirt. Though if one stared at her, they would see that she was purposely being sexual. The way her jeans hugged her legs and the tightness of her shirt around her breasts. She was a female completely immersed in the flirting game and she felt no shame. None at all.

As soon as she sat down, Felix looked over her shoulder at the couple to see if the woman was still watching them, and he smirked when she was. Kairi looked at him, then looked at the woman.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

"Would you mind if I did something totally outrageous and childish?"

"Uh…"

"Too late."

Felix stood up, flattened the slight wrinkles out of his shirt and sat next to Kairi. He pushed her over, and he had the most devilish grin on his face. Kairi groaned at the sudden closeness between them. She wasn't entirely sure why, but Felix leaned right in her face before she could figure it out.

"What are you doing—?"

"Shhh," Felix said. "Just go with it."

"What are you—"

Kairi gasped as Felix buried his face right in the hollow of her neck. She blushed, turning a shade of red that should have never been seen in a public place, and tried to escape, but to no avail. Felix laughed at her and she could feel the vibrations of his ribcage in hers. This was far too personal for her liking, but after the initial shock, she relaxed.

And she liked it.

It was such a spontaneous gesture—too quick for her to stop him ahead of time—that she just rolled with it. After all, he did tell her that she should just go with it, right? But why? As soon as Felix pulled away, Kairi refused to look at him. He nudged her and pointed to the couple. The woman had turned red with fury and was averting her eyes. The man however, was openly staring at them.

Felix snickered in her ear. "They're so nosy."

Kairi frowned. "You did that so you could get on their nerves?"

"No," Felix said. "I did that because I'd get the chance to kiss you. Getting on their nerves was just a bonus."

Kairi's frown evaporated. That was just about the most unusual and flattering answer she's ever heard. A real heartthrob is what Felix Vanitas was. A real gentlemen, with a little bit of an unorthodox method of attracting the ladies.

Yes, she was attracted to him.

"Uh, so, I think I'm going to hide in my corner now," Felix said. "Again, that was me being direct, and, again, I think I may have dropped the ball."

Kairi shook her head. "It's not you."

"It's just my wit and my charm is a people repellent. It's okay, you can say it." Felix smirked at her. "I think it might do me a world of good to ask you out on a date, Miss. Officially."

"I—" Kairi stuttered. _Actually stuttered._

"We could stroll through the National Mall…"

"I—"

"Talk politics…"

"I—"

"And do other stuff."

Kairi stood up. "I would love to. But only after I get some sleep."

Felix leaned in her face again. "It's a deal. And I won't even steal a kiss from you this time. But I can't make any promises about later."

Kairi playfully punched him. "You're such a _dork._"

"Ah, but it's working."

* * *

><p>Where is she?<p>

He had to find her. That little bitch. That backstabbing, manipulative, spiteful bitch.

Hayner was in his own little world. Going over everything he had done wrong to get to this point. Just what _had_ he done wrong? He kept a low profile, took care of every little thing Isa needed, tended to Aqua's books. How could everything come to this?

That conversation still rolled around in his head.

"_Hayner, it's Isa. I think I might hate you. I'm not sure why though. Could you help me? I think I'm dying."_

_Laughter._

"_This Morphine works like a fucking charm."_

He needed him. He needed him to come and help him. Hayner knew that. Isa was his everything. He gave up _everything_ to be with him. His dignity, his future, his body. All in an effort to garner some kind of love from him. And it had almost worked until the whore showed up.

And he was going to find her.

As he made his way through the streets, trying hard not to lose his mind, he stopped in front of a hotel. He had heard from some people who recognized him that Someone may or may not be staying at that particular hotel. Though information wasn't always reputable when it came to Aqua's whereabouts, he had a gut feeling that she would be there.

It turns out that she was, and she had just arrived when he showed up. He was tempted to take the gun Isa had given him for protection while he was alone out from his coat pocket and blow her fucking brains out all over the street. He would make sure to laugh manically and confess to all of her sins. Or at least the ones he knew about. But not yet.

Isa would never speak to him again if he did that.

As Aqua stepped out of the taxi, Hayner reached into his pocket and brushed his fingers along the cool metal. Could he do it? Right now? Could he end her reign of terror forever and ever?

He could try.

Aqua was standing outside of the taxi, handing over a folded up bill when Hayner stuck her from behind.

"Get back in the taxi," he growled.

Aqua obliged and nodded to the taxi driver. She didn't speak as she got back in the car.

"Oh, did you want to go somewhere else, ma'am?" The taxi driver asked cheerfully.

Hayner closed the door behind him as he, too, got into the taxi. The driver quieted.

"Shut up."

Aqua remained silent. This was not good. Not good at all. She thought Hayner would have disappeared, or had been killed because he is not as good a gangster as her or Isa. Unfortunately, she thought wrong, and she was slightly afraid of what would happen because of that. Hayner choked back a sob, and she could see in his eyes a morbid sadness. A sadness similar to her own, but much more unregulated.

"You have to help him," Hayner said, trying to steady his shaking voice.

"Who?"

"Don't you fucking play dumb, you stupid bitch!" Hayner screamed. "You know damn well who I'm talking about!"

"Lawrence?" Aqua asked. "Or Isa?"

Hayner sniffed. "Both."

"I can't save both of them," Aqua said simply. "I can only save one."

"You can do anything you fucking want," Hayner replied. "Don't you think that you can't."

Aqua did not change her expression. She was in a precarious situation right now. Not only was she in danger, but the taxi driver was, as was Zack if he decided to call her and ask her where she was in his impatience. Hayner was a ticking time bomb now. She had to bring him down.

"I'll see what I can do," Aqua said.

"That's a lie," Hayner growled. "That's a lie and you fucking know it. I want you to call him. Right now."

"I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because if I do, I won't be able to stop him from getting back at me."

Hayner looked down, but corrected his lapse in anger instantly. "I don't think you are the way you used to be any more. You've become a monster."

Aqua laughed unexpectedly. "I've been a monster for a long time. My heart is steeped in darkness, Hayner. I'm sorry you are just coming to terms with this."

"Shut up!"

Hanyner eyed the taxi driver. Like Aqua, he also saw the "A" tattooed under his ear. It was a little lower than anybody else he's seen with that mark, but he didn't give a fuck to be quite honest. He looked back at Aqua.

"Fine," Hayner said. "Let's make a deal, since you are so good at that."

Aqua remained silent.

"If you don't help Isa _and_ Lawrence," Hayner growled slowly. "Then I will go to the cops and them everything I know."

Aqua frowned deeply. The change in her demeanor was so sudden, it took even Hayner by surprise even though he was expecting her to be angry. Though this hostility was nothing like what he had seen in her before. Now, he felt like he had backed himself into a corner. And he was sure that she would have killed him right in that taxi if she had the means to.

"You're playing a very dangerous game threatening me," Aqua said, bristling. "I hope you're prepared to play."

"I mean it though. You better help him." Hayner paused and looked back at the taxi driver. "But just so I'm clear on my intentions. Taxi driver, you bear the Free God's mark, yes?"

The taxi driver stuttered. "Well, I…"

"It's okay," Hayner said. "We're not cops. Quite the contrary."

"Uh, yes…I do."

"Well." Hayner grinned as Aqua subtly shook her head. "May I introduce you to the one and only Free God. Angelina fuckin' Godfrey."

The taxi driver fell silent. The whole car was drowned in silence. Hayner had just unleashed a force in the universe that could never come back. He revealed to a complete strange who Aqua really was. Her life was over.

As was Hayner's.

Hayner stepped out of the taxi. "I think you have a lot of thinking to do now, Someone. Maybe you should reach out to those in need."

Aqua shivered with rage. Hayner had fucked her so badly. He deliberately placed her in a situation where she could nothing to him or the taxi driver without raising some kind of suspicion. Right now, it didn't matter that the taxi driver was part of her empire. Apparently, that didn't count as loyalty any more.

Aqua did not say anything to the driver as she got out of the taxi. She merely left and entered the hotel. Zack was waiting for her. It was time to make her move. She pulled out her cell phone while on the elevator. It rang forever, and the voice that answered did not sound too happy.

"What do you want?"

Aqua frowned, still numb with rage. "I wanna make a deal."

"You know what I want."

"I know what you really want."

Silence.

Aqua blinked slowly. "I'm going to give it to you."

"I'm glad you see it my way."

"And I'm glad that you're not here right now."

"Angelina, my darling, you have always been my favorite. I was blessed when I invested in you. I have not regretted it yet."

"I'm sure." Aqua paused. "Julian, I want out."

"Music to my ears, my lady."

* * *

><p>"My, what made you happy all of a sudden?"<p>

Julian Fair stood in his office after hanging up the phone with a renewed sense of self. A weight that had been burdening his chest lifted and he breathed with a new vigor. His legacy was not over. Not yet.

Rufus Shinra stood across the room from him. He didn't look nearly as happy. In fact, he looked very pissed off. He ran his fingers through his hair. Julian turned around to face him.

"I'm getting what I want," he answered. "This is a joyous occasion."

"I don't see what makes this joyous, old man," Rufus said. "Our merger is in ruins. It's failing miserably."

Julian waved him off. "You are jumping to conclusions, young'un. You have a lot to learn about business. First things first, don't jump the gun.

"The merger is only a few weeks old, and there was absolutely no sign that it was coming. The Stock Market gets antsy when things like that happen. It's no big deal. You have the Fair name attached to it. They don't know Shinra Power and Electric Company over here. You have no reputation. That's what I'm for.

"Any minute, the stocks will explode. I'm counting on it. You just have to sit and wait. Play with your toys or something."

Rufus flushed. "I'm not a child, Julian! Don't you treat me like I don't know what I'm doing. Remember, I have more power. I have more say."

Julian chuckled. "Fine, I'm sorry. Listen, if you want to get in favor with the public, you need to do something for them."

"Why on Earth would I do that?"

"To make them love you," Julian said. "If you, say, catch a bad guy, people will like you for it. Catch more bad guys, and more people like you. Drop the crime rate by three percent, and they'll love you forever. You have to manipulate them. We're pretty liberal over here, but we're not relaxed. This isn't Hollywood, you can't charm us with sparkles and digital effects."

Rufus put his thumb to his chin. "Maybe you're right for a change, old man."

"It happens."

"I'll catch the biggest criminal on the East Coast."

"That's the spirit."

"Someone who is a menace."

"That's right."

"Someone with a lot of pull in the underground world."

"Excellent."

"Someone who is responsible for most of the shit that's been going on around here."

"That's thinking big."

"Someone like…the Free God."

Julian frowned. The tension in the air, which had once been tight, relaxed and tightened in an instant. Julian looked away.

Rufus smirked at him. "What, you don't think that's a good idea?"

Julian didn't answer.

"I thought I needed to give the people something. I would think freedom from a tyrant would be sufficient.

"You live in fear of her. You all do. Especially you, Julian. I heard the way you sounded when you spoke to her over the phone. You nearly shit bricks. You would have been cowering before her if she was here. _Cowering. _You would have reduced yourself to a lesser man because you are afraid of what she can do. She is far too powerful and I do not like that.

"So, I will get rid of the problem. If she has as tight a control over you as she does the rest of this retarded region, I fear that I will lose a lot of money and resources. It's a shame I didn't know how much a bitch you were until about ten minutes ago. You had me thinking that you could get her to do whatever you wanted."

Julian did not respond.

"I mean, what is it? Do you have the hots for her?"

"It's not that," Julian said. "She is perfect in every way."

Rufus scoffed. "Oh? And how's that?"

Julian sat in the chair behind his desk. He folded his hands and rested his chin upon them in deep thought, like he was trying to remember something very important. He closed his eyes as Rufus rolled his.

"Someone, the Free God…she is a specimen of perfect perception. She is a born leader. She is a natural businesswoman. I've never seen anybody more apt at making decisions." Julian opened his eyes. "You see, she is a natural born killer. Her instincts, those cannot be bought. You cannot _learn_ how to be the way she is. She just _is._ If there was a God of Finance, she would be it."

"You know, that sounds like you fucking love her."

Julian sighed. "I do, I suppose. Yes. But I love her mind. And I want that mind under my control. She would never allow me to rule over her, so that's why I want her to bare me a grandchild."

Rufus's jaw dropped. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Right at this very moment, my son is balls deep in the most perfect woman in the world. And that union will bring me a grandchild who will turn Fair Financing into the owner of everything."

Rufus laughed. "You sound like a fucking madman."

"I mean it, Rufus," Julian said seriously. "You better watch yourself. Even when I'm long dead, you will be fucked in the ass by my legacy. And don't you ever. Fucking. Forget it."

Rufus didn't answer. He was at a loss for words. He did sneer though. He wasn't going to let Julian one up him. He could keep his fucking whore.

"Whatever," Rufus waved him off. "I'll just have to find something else to do. Maybe bend the Senate. Now _that _will be fun."

Julian didn't say anything as Rufus left. He was sorely tempted to call Aqua back to see if she had, indeed, slept with his son. But he trusted her, even if it was marginally. And when Rufus was far out of sight, Julian laughed. Laughed until his sides hurt because he was getting exactly what he wanted. This made him a very happy man.

_This is the happiest day of my life._

And that was the truth.

* * *

><p>"Mick, I think we should talk."<p>

Mick had been sitting in a cozy arm chair, his mind lost in thought. A few of the more mild mannered Senators had invited him to a gathering. He was certain that they would try to talk him out of resigning, since it still wasn't too late, but he knew he was going to stay steadfast. They knew about his strides against the Heartless, but they did not know about the Organization. He intended to keep it this way.

"About what?" Mick asked politely.

"Well, about you, and the state of New York as a whole."

Mick chuckled. The man standing opposite from him, Senator Coolidge, was the Senator of Nevada, therefore he built his entire campaign on the regulation of Las Vegas. Mostly the prostitution. He was a good Senator, not nearly as corrupt as the majority—he still had a twinkle of deceit in his eye—but he was a good Senator.

"What about New York?" Mick asked, still not paying that close attention.

"I fear that you may be in jeopardy, Mick," Coolidge said. "I want to talk to you about an investigation I helped with. But, you might not like what's been uncovered."

Mick waved a hand. "Go on, I'm listening."

"I requested an investigation into Someone," Coolidge explained.

Mick looked at him and straightened. He had a bad feeling about the way this conversation had turned so suddenly. "So, did you get it?"

Coolidge nodded. "Yes, I've actually been investigating this case for a while. I just didn't want to tell anybody just in case they knew Someone, or some of their associates. I do not like what I've found."

Mick tensed. "If I could be so bold as to ask…" He paused, weighing whether or not he actually wanted to know what Coolidge would tell him. "What did you find?"

Coolidge sat down across from Mick and folded his hands in his lap. Another Senator—Senator Peirce of California—came a little closer. He was a young guy, just old enough so that people would still respect his position even though they could say that he was "that young Senator".

Mick sighed heavily. "Don't tell me bad news, Coolidge, please."

Coolidge chuckled. "No, it's not bad, my friend. Very good actually. You see, we made a lot of discoveries. Little things that when added together make a nice giant pile of evidence for an arrest.

"One of the first things we figured out is that Someone is a woman in her older twenties. Her race has yet to be determined, but we know that she is an American citizen. And she is also located in New York. New York City to be exact.

"We also know that she recently put a freeze on all product movement within the region. We do not know why, but we have a fairly good idea."

Mick shifted in his seat. This was not turning out so well. He didn't care if Aqua was arrested, but he _did_ care about how Riku would react once he found out. If he found out. He would try to save her, and get himself into a situation where Mick couldn't help him. He had to stall Coolidge until Riku had a chance to heal from his heartbreak.

Coolidge watched for some kind of reaction from Mick. When Mick didn't try to stop him or redirect the conversation, he made the reasonable—though slightly misguided—assumption that Mick was not part of Someone's empire. The very empire that he was going to try and break down.

"We…also have a name."

Mick snapped his eyes to Coolidge's, but he did not say a word.

Coolidge frowned. "Angelina Godfrey is what's been floating around my parts. Julian Fair and Rufus Shinra, too."

"What do a financial king and an oil tycoon have to do with this?" Mick asked. That was very bizarre in his opinion.

"We don't know," Coolidge said. "My agent was only able to get one conversation in her presence."

"What? But how?"

"I had an FBI agent pose as a taxi driver in hopes that he would run into Someone." Coolidge remained calm, but Mick could hear an underlying giddiness in his tone. "I wasn't expecting it to happen, but not that long ago, he drove a woman to a hotel in New York City.

"He told me that this woman wasn't that special, but as she was trying to leave the car, a man named Hayner ambushed her and forced her back in at gunpoint. He threatened her with ratting her out unless she helped a man named Isa and a man named Lawrence. She sounded like she agreed, though no confirmation was verbally given. My agent unfortunately was not able to get a good look at her.

"However, we have tracked and located Lawrence, full name Lawrence Eiseman. He is currently hiding out in Miami. Apparently he's been fired. We're going to use him to find Isa, and get tangible evidence against Someone before we arrest her. Her reign of terror is almost over, my friend."

Mick remained silent.

"So, what do you think?" Coolidge asked finally.

"I think you might be jumping the gun a little bit, to be honest," Mick answered carefully. "You mentioned Julian Fair and Rufus Shinra. I'm guessing you suspect them of being a part of this empire? Going after Someone who may or may not have ties to two of the richest men in the world might not be a good idea right now. Maybe it might help if you gather evidence on them as well, so you can take out all three at the same time."

Coolidge nodded slightly.

"Then, they won't be able to cover each other. Get them at the same time, and you will have a solid case against them because they won't be able to do anything to hinder you or tamper with your evidence."

Senator Peirce glanced at Mick and took a sip of whiskey. Mick knew he suspected him, but he didn't care. Coolidge nodded.

"That sounds like a good idea."

Mick folded his hands thoughtfully. "How long do you think until the investigation is over?"

"Not long."

"Is there anything I could do to help you out? I mean jurisdiction wise. The FBI can't be everywhere at once you know."

Coolidge shook his head. "Nothing that I can think of right now. If I need you, I'll call you. Oh…don't let any of the other Senators know what's going on. They might try to stop us because Someone is a very good campaign motivator. 'This year, we'll catch him!' But it's funny that they'd actually be talking about a woman. A damn clever one too. Very clever."

Mick grunted an agreement. "I won't tell a soul."

"Nor will I," Peirce said. He had remained quiet up until that point. Mick looked at him. He didn't return the look back and instead turned his head away. "Mick, I think it might be a good idea for us to get to know each other a little better. I mean, the only time I get to see you is when I'm trashing your policies. I don't want to be like that to you outside the business room too.

"You, me and Coolidge could be great friends. You know, unite the country. East meets West in the Middle. What do you say? Coolidge has been like a Senatorial mentor to me. He's so wise and _cool. _And you look like a cool guy."

"Sorry, Peirce," Mick said. "I'm afraid I'm very busy at the moment."

"Doing what?" Senator Peirce nearly hissed at him. "Spreading your _rotten_ liberal policies? Jesus fucking Christ, Mick. The most notorious gangster has been living under your nose for God knows how long, and you don't even _try _to help catch her? That's some suspicious Democratic shit. I'd almost be tempted to say you've been in bed with her, but then that would make you _too_ liberal."

Mick remained calm. "I thought you weren't going to trash me outside of the business room."

Coolidge stood up quickly. "Let's just call it a day, gentlemen. We all are tired and hard pressed. The economy is in the toilet and everyone is saying 'gimme gimme'. Let's just part ways for now before we set progress back a hundred years."

Mick sighed and stood up as well. "Agreed. I need to now figure out how to clean house before my successor comes in or New York will be in big trouble."

"Liberal fucking Democrat…" Senator Peirce mumbled.

Mick ignored him and returned to his innermost thoughts. He had a lot of work to do.

* * *

><p>Isa was alone. He had forced himself into that life. A life where he decides to be a fucking hero one time, and he gets hung out to dry for it. He should have just let that fucker Riku get killed. Then, instead of lying around, shooting Morphine and masturbating, he would be fucking Aqua all day every day. That's what he wanted.<p>

He loved her more Riku ever could. More than his own miserable fucking life.

But what did that get him? A lifetime of solitude.

Because he had been on constant medication, the doctors allowed him to be in therapy so he could place weight on his disabled leg. Truth be told, it was feeling much better, and he was able to hobble if he wanted to. He looked like a clown when he tried though, so he avoided it whenever he could. It was all in an effort to keep his self appointed "cool" status as high as possible even though he was a miserable fuck.

By now, all the blue from his previous life had petered out of his hair. It was a drab brown, unkempt and slightly curly. Eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. He was a mess. And his body was slowly succumbing to the affects of abusing powerful painkillers. It would be any day now where he would close his eyes and not be able to open them again.

That day might just be today…

Isa opened his eyes when a heavy knock echoed in his hotel room—which had become noticeably dirty. He struggled to sit up. He rubbed his eyes and absently scratched at the crook of his arm. There were dozens of small holes where he had attempted many times to administer himself Morphine while lethargic.

"I'm coming!" Isa screamed.

He lifted himself off the bed, wincing in pain as his leg seized up. He ignored it though. It wouldn't be too long until his latest dose of Morphine would kick in. He hobbled to the door.

"Who is it?"

"Open the door."

"Man, fuck you." Isa replied.

"Lawrence Eiseman?"

Isa froze. That already was not a good sign. "Who wants to know?"

"FBI, open the door."

Isa decided that he would rather open the door and face his fate then try to hobble away from it. He didn't have a weapon to defend himself, and he didn't have any means of bribery or blackmail. He turned the knob and almost instantly, three hefty men burst through the door, yelling at him to get down. Isa obliged.

"Lawrence Eiseman, you are under arrest for suspicions of being a domestic terrorist, illegal weapons trafficking, and the possession and attempted distribution of illegal substances."

"What?" Isa exclaimed. "I don't have any drugs."

One of the FBI agents pulled out a large baggie filled with cocaine. "Yes you do."

Isa paled. "Oh, fuck me."

* * *

><p><strong>Oh, be afeared, be very afeared.<strong>

**Time for shameless self promoting again. You see, I have a poll. You should go vote on it. Please and thank you.**

**Has a nice day. :D  
><strong>


	8. A Wolf at the Door

**Hello, Haji here bringing a chapter from DeadShut. He has not provided a foreword so I will make one up...just kidding.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

><p>"<em><strong>When the night has come,<strong>_

_**And the land is dark,**_

_**And the moon is the only light we see. **_

_**No, I won't be afraid **_

_**Just as long as you stand by me."**_

-John Lennon

"_**I keep the wolf from the door**_

_**But he calls me up.**_

_**Calls me on the phone**_

_**Tells me all the ways that**_

_**He's going to mess me up;**_

_**Steal all my children if **_

_**I don't pay the ransom.**_

_**But I'll never see them again**_

_**If I squeal to the cops."**_  
>-Radiohead<p>

"Mom!" whispered a thin voice in the dark.

Carrie Scott moaned softly as she forced herself to open her tired eyes and look at little Max, her five year-old son. The boy stood next to her bed in his dinosaur pajamas that he had gotten for his birthday just a week ago. He had a serious case of bedhead, she noticed, and his blue eyes were wide with panic.

"What's wrong, sugarpie?" asked Carrie, rubbing her eyes with her knuckles. "Do you have a tummy ache?"

"No," Max whispered.

"Then what's wrong?"

Max sniffed. "There's a monster under my bed," he said.

"No, there isn't, sweetie." Carrie closed her eyes again and rolled over on the bed to face the opposite direction; where her husband would have slept next to her had he not have run away a year ago, leaving her to take care of their child by herself.

"Yes!" insisted Max. "There is!"

"Did you do the Light Trick?" Carrie asked.

The Light Trick was taught to Max by his father before the cowardly bastard had dumped them here in Dunmore to take up a life in Manhattan for some big job opportunity. The Trick was something her ol' hubby had made for Max in order to scare "monsters" away. All you simply had to do was turn on the lights and think happy thoughts, and the monsters would immediately die and turn to smoke. It was actually a rather useful method of helping Max when he was scared; the best parenting his father had ever done, Carrie figured.

"Yes, I did the Light Trick," said Max sadly. "It's still there. Can you tell it to leave?"

"Honey, it's late. Please, just go back to bed and do the Light Trick. Mommy's very tired."

Max burst into tears.

That got Carrie up immediately. She muttered, "Hey…" and he came to her, arms outstretched. She gave him a big hug, then said to him, "I'll take care of mean ol' Mr. Monster. Okay?"

Max sniffed. "Okay."

"Alright."

She stood up, gave a stretch, and walked out of her room and into her child's.

And, right in the middle of the room, stood a man.

It was no ordinary man. The first thing Carrie noticed was that there were no eyes on this being's face. The second trait she then processed was the large metallic mouth clicking away like some kind of hell-spawned machinery. And even though the thing that stood in front of her seemed to lack a face, there was a sense of awareness radiating from the way it faced her. Its head then cocked slightly, as if studying Carrie.

From behind her, Max spoke softly: "There he is. I didn't think he'd come out from under the bed, though."

Carrie screamed. She screamed louder than she thought possible. And when she screamed, the monstrosity screamed back - even louder. It moved forward quicker than anything of its size could ever do, and swiped one of its clawed hands at Carrie. Her shirt tore along with the skin of her belly, and that was all it took for her to snap out of her shock. Despite the pain, she turned, picked up her kid, and ran for the front door. Behind her, the heavy footsteps of the being followed.

Once she was outside with Max crying on her shoulder and clinging onto her for dear life, Carrie ran to her car. She flung Max into the passenger's seat from the driver's seat's door, then hopped in herself, shut the door behind her, and locked it.

She cursed herself a million times for not at least trying to get the keys.

From the front door of her small house, the thing emerged, its head upturn as if sniffing for its prey.

Carrie turned to Max and whispered, "Don't make any noises, okay?"

Max nodded, eyes wide, and put his hands over his mouth to try and stifle any loud breathing.

Carrie gave him a thumbs up, then lowered his seat back so he was below the level of the car's windows. She then did the same to her own seat and turned her body so she was looking at little Max. If she was going to die here, she was going to die facing her pride and joy, not a fucking car door.

"Are you hurt, Mommy?" Max whispered as quietly as possible.

For a moment, Carrie hadn't a clue what the kid was talking about. Then she remembered the gash the thing had given her. She looked down at her stomach and saw four scratches, all of them bleeding. She winced and looked back at Max's blue eyes. They were the same color as his father's, yes, but they were so much more innocent and kind than his could ever be. She was happy that such innocence and kindness had been hers to create, even if her co-developer had gone marriage-AWOL.

"No, sugarpie. I'm not hurt."

That was a lie. Since noticing the scratches, they had started to hurt like a motherfucker. She wondered what would have happened to her if she had not run upon seeing the creature. Would her entire body have been mauled? Would her son's? Mind clouded with worry, she tried to tell herself to not think such painful thoughts.

Then she remembered the pistol in the glove compartment.

She almost peed herself with relief. She had been given the gun by her loving ex-hubby, who was quite the jealous type when he had actually given two shits about her and their son. He had told her to carry it in case any other man tried something.

She quickly reached towards the glove compartment and took out the gun.

Then, she told little Max: "Sugarpie, I'm going to leave the car right now. I'll be right outside the door. No matter what happens, even if I'm yelling, do not come outside. If you can…try and go back to sleep."

"I don't want you to go," sobbed Max.

"I'll be right outside, okay? Just a little bit away from you. Mommy has to take care of something?"

"Is that a gun?"

"…Yes. It's a gun, Maxxy."

"…okay."

She kissed his forehead, then slowly sat up in her lowered car seat, the pistol in-hand. She got up just in time to see the being walk back into the house. Deciding this was the best opportunity she may have, she slowly crept out of the car and shut the door quietly behind her. As fast as she could, she checked the rounds in the gun by weighing it in her hands: it seemed full. Good. Just like the first day she had bought it and loaded it, unless somehow the bullets came to life and went on strike because of all the neglect.

They'd be working hard tonight. Carrie was sure of that.

Her eyes never left the front door which was ajar, and she felt the palm of her right hand, which was gripping the pistol tightly, start to sweat despite the chilly night.

She then wondered if she should go inside and hunt for the thing. After all, if it came back outside and killed her, Max would watch and if he lived through the night, he would be scarred something awful. Her baby didn't deserve that.

It was time to take this showdown inside.

Carrie muttered under her shaky breath, "Alright, you fuck. Let's do this…"

She raised the pistol towards the door, and slowly ascended the stairs up onto the porch and snuck her way through the half-opened front door. Through the front door was the living room, and beyond that the kitchen and the back door. If she remembered correctly, her car keys were hanging on a magnetic hook in the kitchen on the fridge. On her left was the hallway that led to both her bedroom and Max's. From the hallway, movement could be heard.

Heart racing, Carrie slowly crept her way into the living room, praying that she wasn't making much noise. She kept her eyes on and her gun pointing at the hallway as she walked backwards towards the kitchen.

Something then flew from out of it.

Carrie screamed, "_FUCK!_" and fell back on her bottom as the object crashed and landed on the floor in front of the door. She recognized it as her television set as further noises of the rummaging creature came from her bedroom. With the crash of the television, the thing in the other room must have not heard her.

She did not want to risk standing up and making more noise, so she crawled.

The carpet beneath her hands and knees turned to cold tiles as she entered the dark kitchen. She immediately went for the keys hanging on the hook, but when she reached up to get them, she knocked down the entire magnet. The keys hit the tile floor, jangling loudly.

The rummaging in the next room stopped. Loud footsteps came.

Showtime.

Carrie stood up with the keys as the thing entered the kitchen. Again, she was disgusted and frightened by its appearance. It stared at her in that cocked-head sort-of way. She waited for it to move forward to strike her, but its next movement she did not expect.

The thing's bony hands crept up to its stomach and began to massage it. Then its mouth clicked again, faster than before.

As inhuman as this monstrosity was, that clicking was familiar to Carrie; it was mocking her. Underneath the gnashing of the metallic teeth, she could hear a faint laugh.

And instantly, Carrie Scott knew what the thing was indicating. At that moment, both human and monster had communicated with one another. Yesterday afternoon, Scott had performed a pregnancy test that had come out positive. She hadn't got around to telling the father, her current boyfriend, about it yet.

Furious at the mocking laugh of this thing, Carrie raised the pistol and said, "Fuck your shit, honey."

She pulled the trigger.

The gun did not go off.

Carrie's heart sank and her bladder released as the thing moved towards her, arms outstretched to grab her. She quickly looked down at the pistol and hastily turned the safety off. When she looked back up, the thing was right in front of her.

She screamed, pressed the business-end of the pistol into the thing's stomach, and unloaded the gun into it.

The monstrosity collapsed into a screaming mess of black blood. This scream was different from before in the room; _that_ scream was a war cry. This scream was a mixture of fury and a desperate clinging to life. Upon hearing it, Carrie quickly ran out of the kitchen and out of the house. Inside the car, little Max was curled up into a ball, terrified.

"It's okay, sugarpie," Carrie soothed as she got into the driver's seat. "Momma took care of it."

She patted his head, then put the keys into the ignition and started the car. The headlights came on, illuminating the area around the house, and Carrie screamed.

All around her and her son within the car were at least fifty beings that looked just like the one she had shot inside. All of their faceless heads cocked, all of their metal mouths tittering.

"_OH MY GOD!_" Carrie screamed, clutching Max and holding him tight.

Their grey hands crashed through the windows, their claws hooked into Carrie and her son and dragged them out the windows, and the last thing either of the poor Scotts heard were the furious clicking of the metallic teeth that soon became the death of them.

Their neighbors, the Waltons, came out of their house seconds later to find the group of Dusks, and were in-turn killed by them next. The group then scattered again around Dunmore, happy to have a new killing ground. By dawn, twenty-five pregnant women in the embryonic stage were killed, as if the monsters wanted to stop the birthing of normal children.

As if they were jealous of them.

* * *

><p>The train pulled into Merrythought Station in D.C. a little after dawn, so when both Felix and Kairi left the station, they were wearing their jackets due to the early chills of this September morning. The ride in had been six hours long, and although they had brief moments to themselves, the two had spent the majority of that time together, getting no sleep whatsoever. By the time they had to leave the train, both were almost unconscious with fatigue, yet were still happy nonetheless. Kairi had scribbled down her number on a small piece of paper and gave it to Felix as they stood on the stairs of the train station.<p>

"Don't forget our date tomorrow night," she said to him, wagging her finger playfully.

He grinned.

"Nah," said Felix. "Changed my mind about that. Decided you weren't cool enough to date."

"Psh, I'm cooler than you could ever _hope_ to be, Felix."

"You? You're a class-A dork, O'Cooper. Maybe I'll come see you tonight, just to make you feel better."

Kairi laughed, then said seriously, "No, you can't. I'm going to be with a friend tonight. She's getting married soon, and I have to help her make calls for the wedding. But you can still stop by for a little bit and meet her _just_ to see me…if you want." She added this last part slyly.

"Maybe," said Felix, giving a stretch. "What's her name?"

"Namine."

Felix almost shit himself right there on the spot. Oh, man. Namine? _The_ Namine? The woman whose house he had intruded? The woman who he had demanded money from? The only female present at the time of his bonding with his grandfather's Void? And _Kairi_, one of the people he was supposed to be tracking down, was friends with her?

_Fucking figures_, Felix thought bitterly, his heart racing. _It fucking figures._

"No," he managed to say out loud. "I just remembered I can't. I still have to find a hotel to stay at tonight, and my friend back in New York will want some pictures emailed to him soon."

Kairi gave him a sweet smile as she said, "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow night, then. You have my number and my address."

"Yes, you will. And, yes, I do."

She gave him a kiss on the cheek and gave a cute little wave that Felix returned. When she walked away, he watched her curvy little buttocks swing back and forth ever-so-sweetly. A hot blush crept up his face when he realized that he was staring.

_My God, what the fuck is wrong with me?_

He was turned-on, that was what was wrong with him. But it was more than that, too. Felix had slept with many women in his life - mostly to relieve the stress of his once-shitty life more than anything else - but there was something about this new girl that actually excited him in more ways than one. Perhaps it was just the affects of the Void.

Or perhaps he was starting to develop feelings for the girl.

_No_, he thought, beginning to walk down the street aimlessly. _No way. _

If he started feeling for the girl, he would lose his mind trying to keep so many secrets from her. No way in hell could he ever tell her about his suit, his deal with Braig, and his intentions to kidnap her friends…and perhaps even her.

On one hand, he was friends with Braig and he wanted to carry out his part of the bargain to receive a freedom he had always been denied. However, on the other hand, he hadn't had as much fun as he did last night with Kairi since he bonded with Void. Although killing moronic criminals with Braig had its perks, it lost most of its glamour after a while. When he was with Kairi, he felt _powerful_. When he was with Braig, he felt like just an accomplice…not the ringleader.

And Felix Vanitas was absolutely sick of being on the sidelines. He had done that for most of his life, along with his family. Scapelli, that stupid fuck, would be cowering in fear at the name Vanitas had he seen what little Felix the Smuggler had become. Petty thug to mutant mob boss with fiery-haired broad ruling over an empire with him - _that_ was a story the underground needed to see. Enough of this bullshit between the Heartless and Someone and whatnot: Vanitas was a name that should strike terror and awe within the hearts of the world.

Felix stopped walking and blinked. These thoughts were odd for him. He was never much of a megalomaniac. He preferred to do the job himself rather than have others do it for him. He liked to get his hands dirty. A working class hero. Like Quint from _Jaws_ or something.

Perhaps those thoughts were so alien to him because they weren't his.

Frowning, Vanitas' hand went to the small green gemstone containing his suit and he clutched it.

No. No, that couldn't be…

Could it?

No, of course it couldn't. He wasn't even _attached_ to the suit right now - how could it possibly be thinking for him?

_Maybe my priorities are changing_, he thought. _Now that I have this power, I'm realizing what I should be doing with it. I'm afraid of ending up like a nobody again. And, shit…who wouldn't be afraid of that?_

Felix then realized that Kairi quite possibly came with his first ever true ambition. Then he realized that, quite possibly, it was long overdue. He may not be able to do whatever he wanted now, but he was certainly in no position to be anyone's lapdog. And Braig would have to be told. Soon.

_But Braig is my friend, now. One of the only ones I've ever had._

Felix sighed. This was not working out like how he wanted it to. The suit should have been the end of troubles for him, but it had merely unlocked new ones thus far.

Sighing, Felix kicked a pebble. What to do, what to do…

"Felix!" a voice whispered from an alleyway he had passed. "Felix Vanitas!"

Flabbergasted, Felix turned around to see a tall, middle-aged man in a suit and tie beckoning to him.

"Who are you?" asked Felix.

The man hissed, "The spawn of a brilliant mind, much like you. Come into the alley, now!"

"Don't think so. I'm not the kinda guy who is easily lured into an alleyway. How do you know my name?"

"I know of your grandfather! My father was an associate of his! His name was Ivan Iron Sr. I am Ivan Jr."

"You know of my grandfather? That makes one of us, then. I know nothing of Victor Vanitas, other than the fact that he is now worm-food."

"Ahh, but you know what he was capable of making, correct?"

Felix scratched his chest, brushing the gem containing Void.

"Yes," he said. "I know quite well what Victor was capable of doing. He was a genius, but very underappreciated."

"As was my father. They worked together, you see."

"Did they, now?"

"Indeed. Many people worked for Victor Vanitas and his friend. But Victor had his own, private group. My father was apart of that, and when he had me, he told me all about it."

"Thanks for the fucking history lesson," said Felix flatly before turning and walking away.

Ivan ran after him and walked beside him and said, "Not interested in that? Okay, I'm sorry. How about if I told you that we have been waiting for you to come to D.C.?"

"Who's 'we'?"

"Those who I speak for," said Ivan patiently.

"And who is it that you speak for, Mr. _Iron_?"

"It's not a fake name, I assure you. I hate having it. Anyways, I speak for the remaining people apart of your grandfather's secret division. The Unversed."

Felix stopped dead in his tracks. The Unversed…that was a familiar name. His own father, who had died of cancer from smoking too much, used to speak of it once in a while to other members of Scapelli's empire.

"The Unversed?" asked Felix.

"Yes, Felix. Victor Vanitas was a brilliant man, and his private workers became his friends and followers. Soon it became a small branch of agents known as The Unversed…we are the descendants of those founding fathers, and we want to extend an invitation to you to join the Unversed. You deserve it, along with a position of power within the Unversed system. You are a direct descendent of Victor Vanitas, and that makes you practically Jesus in our…operation."

Felix inquired, "What is it exactly that you people do?"

"We attempt to better the world by researching things that are…frowned upon by the American law. Mostly…the Keyblade."

"The Keyblade?"

"A weapon supposedly given to humanity by otherworldly creatures in the 1940's. Before you roll your eyes or spit in my face, hear me out. I know it sounds like bullshit. I thought it was, too. Until a month ago. In the middle of Manhattan, exactly three Keyblades were seen by dozens of witnesses. Two of the three were wielded by a masked man, the other one by an unknown boy. The two had a brief battle, and then the masked man fled. We have videos from security cameras on-the-scene, studied them a million times."

"Do you know who the boy is?"

"'fraid not. Some asshole in a tuxedo and top hat was positioned in such a way that the boy's face couldn't be seen."

"So, you joined the Unversed to pursue the Keyblade, but thought it was all bullshit until a month ago?"

"No!" cried Ivan, laughing. "No, of course not! I had known about the Unversed since my childhood, but did nothing with the information. I became an engineer eventually, and when I saw videos of the Keybladers leaked onto the Internet, I was at once shocked. I called the sons and daughters of my father's old friends - most of whom became scientists or engineers like myself - and together we reformed Victor's private agency: the Unversed. And we've been trying to find _you_, but we eventually found out that Scapelli had you off the grid until you went all AWOL on him. Then we had to track you down ourselves - the train ticket gave you away. And so…here I am!"

Felix coughed, scratched the back of his head, and said, "I'm sorry, guy, I really am…but I'm not necessarily a collaborator. I'm not even a scientist. I'm a loner, a former smuggler. I can't help you in any way."

"Help _us_? No, no! Felix, you've got us all wrong! We don't want you to help us! _We_ want to help _you_!"

Taken aback, Felix had to ask, "Why?"

"Because you are the only remaining blood relative of Victor Vanitas, our idol, in existence! Our entire operation is based on your blood. If there is _anything_ you need, Felix…do not hesitate to ask us! Whatever it may be, the Unversed will see to it; we have geniuses who can tap into Wall Street and make you a million dollars in a _night_."

Felix grinned from ear to ear. "Thanks…but not much is coming to mind…oh, wait! Whaddya know, I do have a couple of requests."

"Go ahead: shoot," said Ivan, beaming.

"I'm gonna need some cash. And by 'some', I mean quite a fucking bit. I will also need a hotel room in a nice hotel here in D.C. Last, but not least…I want a reservation at a very nice restaurant."

"A lady's man, huh?" said Ivan, smiling.

"As of today, perhaps. You know, Mr. Iron, this all seems too good to be true. I haven't had a lot of luck in my life, and already I have gotten the girl _and_ apparently anything I want."

"Perhaps your luck is changing, then. I assure you, Felix, the Unversed are very real. Your grandfather was a revolutionist, and he most certainly did not die in vain. We want you, his grandson, an icon to our organization, to be content. Since I already expected you to ask for cash, I brought some…" From his coat pockets, Ivan pulled a couple stacks of fifty dollar bills.

"Holy shit!" screamed Felix. "Are those real?"

"Quiet!" hissed Ivan. "Just take the money."

"Sorry, sorry."

Felix pocketed the cash.

"As for the dinner reservations…any preferences?" asked Ivan Iron Jr.

"Uh…Italian?"

"Italian it is, then. We'll book you at the finest hotel in D.C., too."

"No," said Felix quickly. "I can't become a millionaire out of nowhere for this girl. This money is secret."

"Then a three-star hotel will lend a room to you."

"Jesus…you have a lot of influence."

"We have a lot of people in a lot of places, Felix. We're just not very boastful about it, like those pathetic Heartless were. Look where they ended up because of that."

"So you're more than just scientists and engineers."

"We frequently have to get our hands dirty, yes."

"I'm not so sure I want to free myself of one criminal empire to be the slave of another, Mr. Iron."

"Felix, this 'empire' _is you_. Scapelli had you as an employee. We want you as an associate."

"There has to be a catch."

Ivan bit his lip. "There might be a catch, yes."

"And what might that be, Ivan?" asked Felix coldly, deliberately ceasing the use of the more formal name.

"Two things. The first one is, we would like you to travel to Italy within this month and retrieve your grandfather's various devices that he had in his possession at the time of his death. If that's okay."

"There's a problem with that," said Felix instantly. "I know how business like this is done, Ivan. I'm a criminal at heart. I bust my ass to get to Italy, get my grandfather's things, try to avoid Scapelli's men, and come all the way back to D.C. to find you fucks waiting for me with a bullet in a gun with my name on it. The middle man is always the one cut out."

Horrified, Ivan began, "Surely you don't think we would _ever_-"

"I _do_ think so, Ivan. It's a plausible suspicion. You butter me up with all this hero-worship over my grandfather to win my trust. Buy me a couple things to confirm that I'm a sucker. Have me do your dirty work for you, then dump me as soon as I've done it."

"Felix, your grandfather _founded_ the Unversed. We want to be your friends, if anything! You are an equal to us, unlike most others in this wretched country."

"Okay, then. For now, I will have to believe you. I will go to Italy and find my grandfather's things…however, I'd like you to know that I have something in store for anyone who may try to kill me when I return. I will also not be leaving soon; perhaps in two weeks or so."

"That's fine. And we're _not_ trying to kill you, Felix. I promise you that."

_He does not lie_.

Felix blinked at this tiny, almost inaudible whisper that he heard. It was almost as quiet as a single dead leaf sliding across pavement in the wind.

_What the hell was that?_ he thought.

The gem hanging on his chest began to shake.

_Trust me on this_, the small voice said again.

Suddenly, the Void fluid released from its shell and covered Vanitas as quickly as it could, from head to toe. Shocked, Vanitas grabbed Ivan by his shirt and quickly fled into the alleyway, fearful of any witnesses.

"Oh my God!" screamed Ivan.

"Shut up!" hissed Vanitas. "Relax! It's still me. This was what I was talking about. I am more than just Felix Vanitas, Ivan. In this suit, I cannot be defeated."

"It's so beautiful!" said Ivan, ecstatic. "How did you ever become this?"

"It doesn't matter. All that matters is that I _can_ and _will_ destroy anyone or anything that comes at me should the Unversed decide to betray me."

_Very good_, the small voice whispered. _Very professional._

_Thanks._

Ivan stammered, "I assure y-you th-that w-we will n-not betray you, F-Felix. You are an asset t-to the Unversed."

"As long as you understand, Ivan. My freedom shall not be forfeited. Now…what is your second condition?"

When Ivan could finally keep under control, he managed to say, "We need to know who the doctor was that saw your grandfather before his death."

"Apparently the man's name was Christopher Xehanort."

"That's impossible. Christopher Xehanort has been dead for a very long time."

"Well, that was the name given to me."

Ivan frowned.

Vanitas commanded the Void to go back into its little vial, and Ivan watched the process in awe.

"Felix," croaked Ivan. "You are by far more than any of us expected you to be. You truly are a product of your grandfather in more ways than one."

"Glad you understand. I'm sorry that that happened. Do we still have a deal?"

"Of course! Of course…"

"Cool. I'll see you 'round, Ivan."

"Gotcha, Felix. Wait! Can we get your cell number? So we can call you about which hotel you're staying in."

"I don't have a cell phone, actually," said Felix, remembering that the last time he had it was the day he fused with the Void.

"Take mine, then."

Vanitas did so, and then, after shaking Ivan's hand, left the alleyway. The first thing he did when he was back to walking down the street was call Braig's office, a phone number that Felix had memorized.

"Judas Braig, NYPD, speaking."

"Hey, Jude."

"Felix! What's up m'brother?"

"A lot is up, man. A lot. Some dude just cornered me in an alley and told me all about some hidden operation my grandfather started that this guy is apparently trying to rebuild. The Unversed or something. They just gave me a hotel room, dinner reservations for two, and a shitload of cash."

"Cool. How the fuck did they do that?"

"Apparently they have a lot of friends in low places that are actually high places."

"Mobsters."

"Bingo."

Braig was not pleased. "Maybe you should stay out of mob affairs."

"Why?"

"They trace the mobsters to you, and trace you to me."

"Ah, I see. Then it's 'Corrupt Officer Gone Jailbird' on the cover of the _Times_."

"Bingo," Braig echoed. "And the electric chair for you."

Felix winced. "Let's not go there…"

"It's the truth. But fuck it, we'll be fine. Dinner reservations for two, you said? Who's the unlucky girl?"

Felix sighed. "That's the other reason why I called you, Jude. The girl is Kairi O'Cooper. One of Mick's."

"Brilliant! Snatch her, and the others will come."

"No, Jude. I can't do that?"

"Well why the fuck not?"

Felix bit his lip.

"Hello?" demanded Braig. "Tell me."

"Because," said Felix sheepishly. "I kinda like the girl."

"Oh, fuck you!" Braig just about screamed. Felix could hear something being thrown, followed by crashes. "Fuck you, Felix! Are you shitting me? Please tell me you're joking."

"I'm not. But c'mon, Jude! She didn't even see you get beat by Xeha-" He gasped.

"What is it, cockmunch?" asked Braig, royally pissed.

"Xehanort!" Felix shouted. "The Unversed think he's the one who killed my grandfather."

"Whoopdy-fucking-doo."

"Look, man, what the fuck is your problem?" Felix hissed into the phone. "Who gives a fuck if Xehanort almost killed you? Mick didn't. Everett didn't. So why the fuck are you after _them_? Shouldn't we be tracking down Xehanort?"

"No, Felix! We had a fucking deal! You track down Mick and his agents, and I keep your name clear! That was our agreement!"

"One that _I_ proposed, Jude. But my priorities are changing. I don't need your bargain anymore now that I have the Unversed in my pocket."

"I'll give the police your name."

"And I'll give the Unversed _yours_."

"Fuck. You. I thought we were friends, Felix."

"We _are_, but this deal is utter bullshit. You're after the wrong guys, man! If we just focused on Xehanort, we'd have a common enemy with a _lot_ of people, including Mick!"

"Xehanort is a fucking ghost, Felix. If you had seen him, you'd understand."

"I did see him, Jude. The same day you did. And you deserve a rematch with him."

"…Perhaps. I'll call you later, Felix. I have a lot of thinking to do."

"Wait, Jude-"

Dialtone.

Felix snarled.

* * *

><p>The elevator doors opened and Roxas walked into the pearly-white "Lobby" of Oblivion Labs to find that the remaining Members of the Organization were standing around down there, including Christopher Xehanort himself. Roxas had been summoned down here, as had the rest of the Organization, apparently. Roxas could not say he was surprised; meetings would probably be more frequent after the incident with the Dusk in Scranton. Apparently, the thing attacked the President - as in, directly <em>attacked<em> while ignoring most everything else - and thus gave the U.S. government something to study, and slightly bringing Organization XIII out into the spotlight. As Dusks usually needed to be specifically asked to do something, it was obvious that one Member had ordered it to attack and thus reveal itself to the public. It was a rather genius act of a traitor, Roxas had thought.

He did not do it. He wished he had.

Whoever did do it, though, was trying to get the Organization some publicity, and thus was somewhat of an ally to Roxas. He had become suspicious, however; as he was ploying to kill every last Member here, one other redeemed soul was perhaps plotting himself to do the same. Which meant that Roxas would be killed by this fellow traitor, or vice versa. If both traitors were acting in secrecy, then whoever struck first would kill the other.

A dangerous game to play…but Roxas was willing to play it.

Saix smiled warmly at Roxas and said, "Good morning, Rox'. How you holding up today?"

"Better." That was a lie. Upon seeing all of the Members in the room here, the fact that there was no wise-cracking redhead seemed to make the fact that Axel was dead all too more real. The absences of Xaldin and Lexaeus were also a bit staggering. Hell, even without _Marluxia_ the Labs seemed to be full of empty voids.

"Can we get the show on the road?" asked Demyx, looking a bit anxious. "I've got somewhere I gotta be soon."

"Clear your schedule, then," said Zexion snidely. He looked at Xehanort and said, "Superior, if you could begin."

"Yes, of course." Xehanort cleared his throat, and all the Members looked at him with anticipation. He spoke, "Hello, everyone. I know you've all been busy lately, but it's time we've had a meeting as a group. It's been needed for quite a while now, but, frankly, I think we've all been too depressed by the recent events involving the deaths of our allies to actually talk with one another. You are not alone in your grief: I, too, have much regret over the fact that I have recruited those few men to their graves. However, sacrifices should not be unexpected guests. I am aware that with the deaths of Axel, Marluxia, Xaldin, Lexaeus, and Luxord, some of you have lost faith in this entire operation. Which is why, I believe, one of you let the Dusk attack our President. I like to think that all of you are merely disgruntled, not traitors to your purposes. That would be most tragic…for you.

"There are eight of us left. Thankfully, the Keyblader and his pitifully-idiotic friends only managed to kill a bit of our muscle. Luxord did keep our finances, yes, but thanks to Xigbar, here, and his mob connections, we've managed to keep the wolf from the door.

"And I assure you, my friends…we are still the ones in control.

"Now, let me turn your attentions to Vexen, who will explain to you all why that last statement is true."

Vexen nodded, cleared his throat, and began: "A month ago, Axel brought a bunch of computer parts to me shortly before his death. After reassembling the system, I was contacted by a person who called himself the Proxy, and who had a vast knowledge of the Keyblade, and Kingdom Hearts. In fact, his knowledge was so substantial that he literally told me how to get to it."

Everyone in the room held their breath. This was it, Roxas figured. This was what it was all going to be about.

Vexen spoke: "In order for us to get to Kingdom Hearts, you all have to understand the basics of multiverse theory. I haven't the time to go into the vast complexities of it, so I am going to try my best at explaining the basics of it to all of you. Although you cannot see them, we are currently surrounded by countless alternate universes. Almost like a deck of playing cards, we are sort of…_stacked_, in a way. Now, there is no telling what things these universes hold, but the Proxy saw fit to inform me that our universe is a rarity amongst these many, which is why the beings our Superior here met with came to our world instead of another. Universes all around us, and what holds them all together is the Pin: what we call Kingdom Hearts. Now, the Proxy did not tell me much about this place. However, there was one thing he mentioned that I found rather enigmatic: he told me that the time of eight past eight o'clock is our world's manifestation of the Pin. Apparently, the Pin has worked its way into a vast majority of universes like this; for us, it represents itself through time. Make sure to remember that, for I haven't a clue if it's important or not. Eight after eight o'clock.

"Anyways, onto these universes. They truly are all around us, as the Proxy has told me, but we cannot interact with them for many reasons, the two main ones being the fact that a good majority of them are, I believe, uninhabited, and the fact that there are sort of…invisible barriers blocking us from interaction.

"So, the Proxy provided me with blueprints. It is apparently a machine that can break these invisible barriers enough for us to sort of pass through them. That is about as much as I can tell you all at this time. I want to keep this as private as possible. Zexion, I am calling upon you to spend a good number of restless days and sleepless nights to help me build it. Do you accept?"

"Of course I do, Vexen," said Zexion, looking rather flattered.

"Good. Xigbar, I have a list of supplies, metals, etcetera, and their prices. I need you to give me the total sum of cash that is necessary. It's going to be a lot. We may have bred the Virus, but this operation of ours is far from over. I will be working diligently, as will Zexion, here. I cannot estimate the time it will take to build this machine, and even once it is done, we are missing a prime ingredient to finish off this otherworldly recipe. The structure is going to be rather large, and I'm afraid that a couple of Double A batteries will not power it. There is only one thing that can, which is-"

"The Keyblade," Roxas finished for him, solemn.

Vexen nodded. "Roxas is correct. The Keyblade. Many of you, I suspect, are thinking of Sora O'Reilly's. But I figured…why make it that complicated for us? I mean…we can just pick something of equal, if not more, power right off a now-unused floor. Do you know what I'm speaking of, Superior?"

"I'm afraid I do not," replied Xehanort quietly.

"A month ago, you and Xaldin killed off Victor Vanitas in Italy. While you kept the Ethereal Blades, you missed one weapon in Vanitas' apartment. A weapon you have a history with."

Xehanort gasped. "You cannot mean the X-Blade!"

"I do, sir."

"Vexen, the X-Blade is a weapon of extraordinary power. I have seen what it can do. If you are suggesting that be the power source to our machine, then you must be aware…I have seen that thing reduce men to ash. It is a nuke posing as a sword."

"I am aware of its power, sir. In fact, I believe that the X-Blade is more powerful than O'Reilly's own Keyblade. It is newer. Fresher. Power is its main concern, nothing more. And if anyone in this world can stabilize it…it's us."

Xehanort bit his lip, then nodded slowly. "Perhaps you're right. But it is in Italy…who shall retrieve it?"

Vexen grinned sheepishly and said, "I was just about to get to that. Any volunteers?"

Larxene said quickly: "I could go out and get it. I don't have anything better to do."

"Nor do I," Roxas added quietly.

"Hell, fuck it. I'll go, too," said Xigbar. "Victor was working for the Scapelli family when he died, yes? Then they'll probably want to clear out his apartment soon. God help them if they get the X-Blade and fuck around with it, huh?"

"Indeed," said Xehanort. "So…Xigbar, Larxene, and Roxas will go on a mission to retrieve that hellish weapon. Now that that's settled…are you done, Vexen?"

"Yes, sir. That's all."

"Very good. You truly are a genius, Vexen. Xigbar, before you depart for the X-Blade, make sure to give Four and Six the appropriate amount of cash."

"Sure thing, boss. About Italy, though…if Scapelli's people are there, they're not gonna take too kindly to us."

"Bring any weapons you three may need. I expect you will be gone in three days' time. That should be enough time to arrange a flight."

"Sounds good. I'll go see some suppliers." The assassin turned and walked out of the Labs. Demyx then dismissed himself and followed Xigbar out the door.

Xehanort then turned to Larxene and asked, "Why not take Roxas down to the Grey Room to train for a bit while Saix, Vexen, Zexion, and I talk?"

"Sure thing, Superior," said Larxene cheerfully. She grabbed Roxas' arm and hurried him to the elevator.

As the doors closed the two inside the elevator, Roxas saw Zexion giving him a look of utter contempt. Before the metal doors were shut, Roxas made sure to give the same look right back.

* * *

><p>"I'm not too sure about this, Sark," Troy said for what felt like the thousandth time.<p>

The two men were sitting on a park bench in Savage Park in D.C., sipping on coffees and enjoying the morning. Although the coffee was good, Troy felt too sick to drink it. This latest ploy of Sark's was very nerve-wrecking. So much could go wrong, Troy thought, and even though he had faith in his friend's intelligence, he wasn't sure if said intelligence was strong enough to get them both out of this without being thrown into the local jailhouse.

Sark, however, was confident. He had apparently thought this through many, many times, and was certain that they would both be finishing the operation a little richer.

Troy bitterly thought that perhaps Sark's flaming-red hair was its hue merely because of his hot-headedness.

"It'll work," Sark answered simply. "It has to. The gun is loaded. Are you ready?"

Troy gulped and nodded; he was not a fan of guns. Usually, when they planned to steal, they simply took things from Walmart (which was actually incredibly easy) and sold them online. Most of it was Sark's planning; although he had not gone to college, Sark was quite smart when it came to devising plans and executing them. Usually those plans ended with much money in both of their pockets, so Troy was happy to tag along. But using a gun…it seemed surreal. Too gangster.

Troy moped, "I guess."

"Alright. I'm gonna take my position. Remember, Troy: the first lone person you see. And do it as quickly as possible." Sark stood up and walked out of sight, far beyond what Troy could see. Troy knew exactly where his friend had went, though. They had practiced this a few times, and every single time Sark had positioned himself behind a very large oak tree.

Troy stood up himself and realized with a bit of surprise that he was shaking with worry. Perhaps that was a good thing.

On the trail Troy was standing on came a young man jogging in a blue tank top and shorts, along with a brown, ridiculous-looking fanny pack.

Troy ran up to him as fast as he could, screaming, "_Help_ _me! Please, help me!_"

The jogger turned and stopped running.

"What's wrong?" the young man asked.

"My dog!" cried Troy. "My dog just got caught in some rusty old piece of shit…some kind of bear trap or something! Please, help me! I can't pry it open!"

"Jesus Christ," muttered the jogger. "Sure, I'll help you, man. Lead the way."

"This way! Quickly!"

The jogger followed Troy deeper into the woods of the park, not asking a single question.

_I chose right. Holy shit_, thought Troy cheerfully.

They made it to the big oak tree.

Just like he had been told to, Troy gave the signal to Sark by saying, "What the fuck? What the fuck? He was just here a second ago!"

Sark came out from behind the tree with the revolver in his gloved hands. To his bemusement, Troy saw that the barrel of the gun was covered with an empty soda bottle full of packaging peanuts. This way, when he raised the gun and shot the jogger dead, the gun did not make a sound.

Troy watched in horror as the bloody body of the man fell to the ground.

"What the fuck was that?" Troy roared. "I thought you said we weren't going to kill him! You sick fu-" His outrage was ended with a bullet to the head.

Amazed at how quickly he had killed the two, Sark got to work right away. He placed the silenced gun in his backpack, then checked the pockets of Troy. Empty. Good. Poor dumb cow. Sark then checked the fanny pack of the jogger's pocket and found to his delight the dead man's wallet.

Then, Sark found the nearest rock - a reasonable weight, with a needed two hands carrying it - and smashed the faces of the dead men until both were completely unrecognizable.

_Time to fly_, Sark thought.

The cunning thief walked to the nearest gas station, which was only a good twenty minutes away by foot. There, he pulled his hood over his face and activated the ATM machine with the dead jogger's credit card. Using the code he had found in the owners' manual he possessed for ATM machines, he was able to access the dealer's menu easily.

Sark left the gas station that day with six thousand dollars.

Once he was clear of the area, he called up Otto.

"It's been done," he said.

Otto Oogie laughed, "You are a man of few words, Sark. How much?"

"Six thousand."

"Wonderful. That useless friend of yours?"

"Dead as a doornail," Sark said without regret.

"Excellent. Your initiation is complete. You truly _are_ the best thief in D.C. Now, bring the money to my house. I also think you'd like to meet my friend, Mason. He won't _believe_ we met each other over the Internet. Perhaps you and I can have an over-the-phone business discussion with Maleficent."

"I would like that very much, sir."

"Good. I'll see you here."

Sark hung up the phone and smiled, for ever since he had gotten into contact with Otto, Maleficent, and the Heartless, his future seemed brighter than ever.

* * *

><p>When Cloud walked downstairs from his bedroom and into the kitchen, he saw both Namine and Kairi working on writing wedding invitations at the kitchen table, snacking on a bowl of Tostitos and salsa-dip as they did so. Below them, sitting on the tiled floor, was Pluto, staring at Namine as if hoping he looked cute enough to earn a chip. He did, Cloud noted with amusement, but he and Namine had agreed to not let the little puppy eat too much "people-food".<p>

"Where were you all morning?" asked Namine, incredulous.

Cloud kissed her on the cheek and said, "I was in bed for the three quarters of it, and the phone with the entertainment for the last bit."

"The entertainment. Which will be…?" asked Kairi, grinning.

"A Disc Jockey," laughed Cloud. "Since the wedding is in Philly, we decided to hire a Pennsylvanian. Dude's from Stroudsburg, and is actually pretty nice."

"Well, good."

"Mhmm. So where'd you two get breakfast this morning?"

"Denny's," replied Namine, a little flatly, clearly tired. "The one that just opened up. Kairi told me about her and Sora's breakup, and her new little interest. Tell Cloud his name, Kairi."

Kairi looked up at Cloud and said, "I'd rather not. I don't know how serious it is yet."

Cloud arched an eyebrow. "You're kidding me. Not even if I asked nicely?"

Namine grimaced. "She wouldn't tell me either."

Cloud poured himself a glass of soda and chuckled. "Let's change the subject then. You are coming to wedding, right? I mean, you're not going to elope before we do. That would just be wrong."

"Of course! Jeez, Cloud…"

"Just checking, you little ginger, calm yourself. Now, we have a hotel that all the wedding attendees will be staying overnight. Do you want a room to yourself, or do you want someone with you…?"

"I'll take one to myself," she giggled. "I've kind of lost touch with most of my girlfriends."

"Ha! Right. Now, the wedding is gonna be held at a church just two blocks away from the hotel, and the after-party will be at a cool little hall we found right _next_ to the hotel. Which is pretty rad, if you don't mind me saying."

"I don't mind, I agree. Who are the other guests?"

"Most of them are on Namine's side. My dad actually just passed away recently, and my mother can't really be bothered. A couple cousins may come, some friends from high school, and then the usual: You, Sora, Riku, Mick, Don, Goof', Chip, and Dale.

"We'll be going there the day before the wedding, stay overnight, do the whole marriage-_thang_, do the after party, stay another night, then go home the following morning. Except Mick told me something about Sora and Riku having to take a train from Philly to Scranton, but I dunno."

"Scranton? Why Scranton?"

"He wants them to investigate the area."

Kairi snorted. "Doesn't Sora have school to go to?"

"See, that's what I thought, too."

Namine said, "Shouldn't his main concern be getting a proper education? Mick acts like the boy is his sheepdog."

"Sora _is_ Mick's sheepdog," said Kairi, dipping a Tostito into the salsa. "He thinks the world of Mick."

"I don't think much of him," said Namine with a bit of a grimace. "He's a bit harsh, and his head seems too far up his own ass. I do like Don and Gerald, though. I haven't met Chip and Dale."

"Neither have I," said Kairi.

Cloud said, "They're pretty much in the same mold as Don and Goof', except way more talkative. Christ, they never shut up."

The doorbell rang.

Namine looked up from the invitations, frowning. "Who could that be?"

"Dunno…" said Cloud, walking to the front door.

Standing at the door was a man in a black suit, his hair combed, his wide eyes full of sorrow. Cloud was taken aback at first, for this man looked remarkably like his father. Same chin, cheek bones, same color hair, same color eyes…just a few differences here and there.

"Chris?" asked the man. "Christopher Strife?"

"Yes, that's me," replied Cloud, a bit uncomfortable at the use of his formal name.

"My name is Mason Sephiroth. You may not remember me, but…I was your father's stepbrother."

Cloud's jaw dropped. "Holy God…_you_. I haven't seen you since I was a young, young kid!"

Mason grinned. "I know, I know."

"Well…come in!"

Mason nodded and stepped on inside. Cloud brought the man into the kitchen, and said, "Namine, Kairi…meet Mason Sephiroth, my step-uncle. Mason, this is Namine, my fiancée, and her friend, Kairi."

Namine smiled and shook hands with the darkly-dressed man, as did Kairi.

"Pleasure to meet you," said Namine brightly.

"Likewise," laughed Sephiroth.

"So, Mason," said Cloud, leaning on the kitchen counter. "How can we help you this afternoon?"

Mason replied sadly, "Well, Cloud, I'm here to give my condolences to you and yours. Your father was a nice man. It's a shame he had to pass away."

"I'm not too sad about it. I never really liked my father much."

"That's a shame to hear. Regardless…during your absence, your father made a good sum of cash…"

"I know about that."

"Really?" asked Sephiroth, surprised. "Who told you?"

"Um…someone. I'd rather not say."

"_The_ Someone?"

Cloud stared at Sephiroth for a moment. Finally, he said, "Namine…Kairi…take a walk, please."

"But-" began Namine.

"Sweetie, not now."

The two girls left. Cloud's eyes did not waver from Sephiroth's, and Sephiroth himself did not look away.

"You know the Free God?" asked Cloud, somewhat bitter; he was hoping to not run into anymore gangsters for a while.

"I know _of_ her, yes."

"But you're not a gangster?"

"I'm just an accountant looking for opportunity, Christopher."

"It's Cloud."

"Cloud, then. Sorry. As I was saying…no, I'm not a gangster. Are you?"

"Trying to quit," muttered Cloud.

"Well, fuck! That's excellent, Cloud! Excellent!"

"Why is that excellent?"

"I've been trying to get into contact with Someone for a while now."

Suspicion narrowed Cloud's eyes as he asked, "Why would you ever want to contact that bitch?"

"Just to negotiate. Do you think you could arrange a meeting somehow?"

"Never. Last time we talked, she threatened to kill Namine should I ever cross her."

Mason whistled. "Well, that's a bit harsh, isn't it? I guess the rumors _are_ true, then…Someone _is_ dangerous."

"Dangerous? More like immature. By the way, enough of that Someone-bullshit. It's Aqua. Her name is Aqua. Is that why you came here, Mason? To get closer to her?"

"No! No, of course not. I came here to inform you that you and I are co-beneficiaries. We're in bold on your father's will. But that's all water under the bridge if you know Some- er, I mean, Aqua. You know what kind of woman she is, right? You have to know her pretty well if she's _threatening_ you personally. You and I…we can take your father's cash and turn it into a competing power. Have a say in the underground. Make an alliance with Aqua…"

"That would never happen," snarled Cloud. "She's a cocky, immature six-year-old bully in a woman's body who loathes to share. She is never content. Unfortunately for her, I am. However, she frequently chooses to see this as a weakness."

"Then fuck her!" cried Sephiroth. "With enough cash, we can hire some muscle. We can kill her ourselves!"

"And, what? Have her mindless supporters come directly after my family to avenge her death? There's a reason why I left the gang for the most part, Mason: it's made up of whining children with temper tantrums. The immature find a liking to Aqua, and so they cling onto her. I was lucky enough to grow the fuck up."

Sephiroth sighed. "Don't you hate it, though?" he whispered. "Don't you hate submitting to the wills of someone who think they're better than you? What gives them the right?"

"Nothing. It doesn't go any further than that for me. I'm a family man."

Greedily, Sephiroth said, "Then give me your share of your father's will. With the pittance I'm being given, I cannot do much. With all of it, I can at least _try_ to best her. If I best her, you and your family are free from harm, and I get one step closer to my own goals."

"Are you kidding me? Give money that I can spend on my newborn child to some relative I hardly know so he can go on a suicide mission to attack Manhattan's biggest drug running-gang? No, Mason. My share is my own. Not yours."

"Ugh!" spat Sephiroth, as if disgusted. "Such a damn shame. I didn't want to have to carry out this part of the plan, but, fuck it. You're being very irksome, Cloud. Very, very irksome."

"Sorry to irk you, then," growled Cloud. "Now leave my home."

Mason bowed melodramatically and said, "Certainly. Have a nice day. Give my regards to Namine and Kairi."

Mason walked out of the house and down the road. The pistol in his coat pocket was feeling tremendously heavy. Perhaps it was indignant - the plan had been to turn it on Cloud and his family should they refuse to give him their share. However, he couldn't do it. Perhaps it was laziness, perhaps it was fear. Or, perhaps it was the fact that Cloud looked remarkably like his father. Mason just couldn't bear himself to shoot the lad.

He would just have to try again another day.

* * *

><p>Sighing for what felt like the millionth time since he had gotten this job, Don threw his car keys down on the security desk in the lobby of the Stockworth Building. The lobby was actually quite impressive, with a rather fancy-looking fountain in its center that many employees here had agreed to make a wishing well. The soothing waters were actually quite calming.<p>

On the security desk was a picture of Don, and the late Moira and Courtney, taken at Pennsylvania's Hershey Park on the little girl's fifth birthday; almost a year before her horrid fate at the hands of Greg Coy and his scumbag friends. Even though Don was aware of the danger Marla Shift had been (there had been a news report a couple weeks ago about the sicko's death), but Don had to hand it to the killer - he had done quite a number on Coy last month. That pink-haired motherfucker had left hardly anything of Coy to identify. It was certain that the man who had murdered Don's wife and young daughter did not go so gently into that dark night. And, for that, Don was thankful; karma had found its way back to Coy, and it had did quite a number on him.

However, there was something rather anticlimactic for Don about all that. For a long time, he had imagined Coy begging for his life before him, and Don coldly ignoring the fat man's pleads and ending whatever miserable life that monstrosity lived.

Hell, Don would've preferred to have at least _been_ _there_ when Shift executed ol' Greggy. Alas, he was not given such satisfaction.

And now his former career was gone, too. With no Senator to protect, Don had to find a new job to work at while he waited for Mick's next move. And, of course, there was Cloud's wedding, too. Although Don was never much of a wedding-guy, he enjoyed the opportunity to get wasted. Plus, it'd be fun to spend time with Goof' again, as he hadn't seen his old friend for a while. His former co-worker was now working as a bagger in a grocery store downtown.

_ Fucking economy ruined us_, thought Don sadly. _Goof's a bagger, I'm a guard dog from noon to midnight. Living the American Dream._

A worker at one of the small businesses that used the Stockworth as their headquarters walked into the lobby.

"Hey, Don!" said the employee, a man named Walker, cheerfully. "How're you?"

"I'm alright, I'm alright. 'nother day, 'nother dollar and all that jazz."

Walker laughed. "Good to know. Say, a couple of us are going out for beers and billiards tonight at the Crowned Crow. Wanna come?"

"Sure. Sounds fun. I don't get out 'til midnight, though."

"S'all good. We have overtime tonight anyways."

"See you then."

"Back atcha."

Walker took the elevator up, and Don watched him go, rather happy at the invitation. Smirking a bit, Don turned back to face the entrance of the lobby, and saw that the fountain was acting rather peculiar. Instead of flowing easily and calmly, it was now vibrant and almost…almost _boiling_ or something…

"What the…?" began Don.

Water exploded from the fountain, splattering the entire lobby. Don was pushed back by the force of this wave, and he coughed and spluttered on the floor, soaking. Quick to action, he stood up and grabbed the guards' pistol from inside the desk.

Then he noticed the other man standing in the lobby.

This man was completely covered from head to toe in black robes. His gloved hands were wrapped tightly around what seemed to be a sitar-like instrument with rather bizarre-looking strings.

There was no doubt about it - an Organization Member.

"Oh, fuck," whispered Don.

From under the hood, a familiar voice cried, "Come now, Donald! A gun? Isn't that a bit cliché for you? I was expecting a friendlier welcome!"

Don whispered, shocked, "Demyx."

"Ahhh, ya' got me. Thank the Lord that I was able to turn off the security cameras in here, or I'd be afraid to even respond to that name."

Don raised the pistol; Demyx quickly struck a chord on his sitar. The puddles around Don boiled and burst, sending the guard flying across the desk. Don held onto the gun as tightly as he could as he fell onto the wet, tiled floor for a second time.

Demyx laughed and said, "Cool little trick, huh? I thought you might like it." He struck another chord, and the puddle beneath Don blasted. This time, due to how close Don was to the water, it was painful. As he fell backwards a second time, he felt the skin on his stomach break. From beneath his shirt, blood mixed with water.

Demyx roared, "How the tables have turned! Before, I was at your mercy! Now look how where you and I are. Isn't it ironic - woah, now!"

Don had attempted to make a break for it, but was stopped by another water-blast. He flew high into the air and landed back on the floor with teeth-rattling force. Demyx mocked, "Run, run away! Ha! Your worst mistake ever, Don: you shouldn't judge anyone by appearance! Too bad it was too late before you realized it."

Despite the pain, Don willed himself to stand up. He stumbled as he raised the gun, and that only earned him another blast off his feet; this time, he was flown back across his desk, bringing it down on top of him.

_Holy shit_, Don panicked. _He's kicking my ass. What is that thing he's using? I've never seen anything like that shit. Looks like I'll need to improvise, then…_

"C'mon, Don!" screamed Demyx. He struck the strings on the sitar madly - all around him, puddles began to burst like land mines. Tile fragments blew everywhere, the statue crumbled, shattered glass rained. "Ain't this a blast? Oh, God…now I'm making puns…fun stuff, fun stuff."

Don quickly pushed the desk towards Demyx, giving him a shield to sit behind as he checked to see if the gun was okay. All seemed well. But, if he was going to take this stupid kid out, he was going to have to do it fast.

Demyx, however, was confident in himself.

"Dance, water! Dance!" he screamed, playing another chords. The water Don was sitting on blew, and the next thing Don knew, he was back up in the air like a helpless rag doll.

As he flew, however, he realized he was going right over Demyx's head.

_Perfect_.

As he passed overhead, Don aimed his pistol and shot at Demyx twice before he fell onto the ground again, hitting his head hard.

"Fuck!" both men screamed in pain. It echoed in the flooded lobby.

For a second time, Don had to will himself to get up. His head was throbbing, and stars filled his eyesight. However, through his pain, he managed to see Demyx on the ground, clutching a wound in his stomach.

_Got him_, thought Don, triumphant. He approached the man, gun raised.

Demyx spat, "What're you gonna do? Arrest me?"

"No. I don't have the authority to. And I think you're more than capable of breaking out of prison."

"Probably," giggled the musician. "I probably could escape prison easily. Fuck! This fucking hurts…"

Both men sat in silence for a moment, doing nothing except clutching their wounds and panting. All around them, water dripped and ran like a rainy day.

"Christ, kid," wheezed Don. "You fucked this place up big-time."

Demyx responded only with a dry laugh.

Don coughed, then said, "I don't really know what to do with you, now. I'd capture you again, but I think that's pretty useless. We've already been established as threats to one another."

That last statement did not coax a disagreement from Demyx. He merely nodded, hair dripping wet.

"So…what?" coughed Demyx. "Now you kill me? I don't have my instrument, and I'm pretty sure I can't outrun a bullet to go get it. So, I guess now all that's left is ending it."

"No…no. Jesus, kid. It doesn't _have_ to end like that."

Demyx said nothing. He only panted and grimaced at the pain of the bullet hole in him. Don watched him do this, studying this adversary of his.

Then he continued slowly, "Look, man. I hardly know who you are. You hardly know who I am. I don't know whatever it was that turned your life around. I don't know what fucked you up. But, who knows, man? Maybe I've been there, too. Maybe, just maybe, I can help."

Demyx turned his head slowly, no longer panting. His lips were pursed, his eyes a little wide.

Don dared to go on: "It doesn't _have_ to be this way. We can work together to rehabilitate you. To make the pain go away. You don't _have_ to be alone. We don't _have_ to kill each other whenever our paths cross. As much as you may hate us, we do not harbor the same feelings. Away with Mick Mouse, away with the Organization you work for. We can just be _people_, and _help_ you as a fellow person."

Demyx stared at Don for a long, long time. For a moment, Don thought the kid was going to either pass out or die. But then Demyx spoke:

"No."

Don did not respond; he awaited more.

Demyx delivered. "No," he said again. Incredibly, Don could hear that the musician's voice was full of regret and sorrow; genuine emotion, tears from what Don believed to be a crocodile. "No, I…I'm sorry. It's far too late for that. Far too late."

He raised his hand; the instrument laying on the ground suddenly snapped into it. Demyx gently played a soft note, and soon the puddles on the ground began to move around rapidly in little beads. As this chaotic rain raged through the lobby, Demyx ran through the front doors. Surprised, Don tried to give chase, but found it too difficult to move through the area.

When he finally managed to get out, Demyx was gone.

Don flipped open his cell phone, dialed a number, and got voicemail. He spoke as quickly as possible, "Can't go back to work. Demyx just attacked me, but didn't want to finish the job for whatever reason. Fucked the entire place up. I managed to disarm him long enough to talk, and…I think he actually wanted to hear what I was saying, because he could have rearmed himself in an instant, and simply didn't. We have to meet somewhere, please. I've had enough of this everyday-life-shit. It's time for us to make the next move."

And it most certainly was.

* * *

><p><strong>Eh, finals are over. Yay.<strong>

**Have a happy holiday if I don't get my chapter done before then. And we wish you a happy new year, again if this is the last time we update before the new year. Until then...**

**Has a nice day. :D  
><strong>


	9. The Powers That Be

**Well, isn't this a delightful irony. Haji here, a year later with an update. I am a thousand times sorry, but I have been incredibly busy over the past year. I apologize to my partner, for I am sure he would never want to write with me like this again, and I wouldn't blame him. I mean, I did kind of disappear for a long time. I am not even entirely sure why I picked this up again, since I'm sure that looks pretty pathetic, picking up a story that had been abandoned a year ago. And I do want to clear some things up while I'm here.**

**One, people were triggered by a lot of the things that were written, and yes, I am sorry that you were triggered by something so horrifying, as nobody should ever have to deal with anything similar to what goes on in this twisted story. Through Tumblr, I learned that everybody is insulted or offended by something, and I do believe that a warning was placed in author's notes before on several occasions. I will continue to issue a warning, but I am not quite sure why I should reveal plot twists in detail. The warnings that have been given were broad. Very broad, and if a warning is placed at all, everyone should just immediately assume that whatever is going to happen is going to be terrible. That's why the warning is there. Just assume the worst and you'll probably be safe.**

**Two, I know there are a lot of grammatical errors scattered throughout the story, but I have neither the time to comb through them to get to them nor the desire to. This goes without saying that I also have seen the errors in continuity. Yes, I am aware of this, and no I am not going to correct those either. I learn from my mistakes and strive to get better. That's part of growing as a writer. Mistakes are a reminder of what went wrong, and then it gets better as time goes on.**

**Three, I do not know if DeadShut will continue to write with me. I understand that he is also very busy and I'm not going to pressure him to write with me, should he choose not to. I will make my offer and he will either take it or ignore it. Please don't pester him if he doesn't want to write this anymore.**

**Enjoy the chapter.**

* * *

><p>Isa was supremely and royally fucked.<p>

Since his arrest, he had been locked in the drabbest grey room ever to exist in the entire United States. After a few hours, his numbed body began to writhe with pain, and he felt sick to his stomach. He was already suffering from mild withdrawal symptoms after abusing Morphine for too long. He scratched absently at the pockmarks in the crook of his arm and looked around, trying to keep an agitated pokerface so he would not clue the FBI officers who arrested him in to just how frightened he was.

So far, his attempts seemed to be working, since they had not come barging into the room demanding answers. His first guess when they first forced his arms behind his back and snapped cuffs on him was that he was being taken for his dealings in Philadelphia. But one of the officers made a blundering mistake when he asked where Isa was.

Obviously they didn't know who he was. Sure, they knew his real name, but that didn't matter. They arrested Lawrence Eiseman because they thought that they would be able to get to Isa—probably so they could get to Someone. Dumb fucks didn't know Lawrence Eiseman and Isa were the same person. And perhaps this was an opportunity to get out of a sticky situation with minimal damage. After all, someone was fucking the East Coast sideways, and it certainly wasn't him.

Though he could not betray her.

Isa closed his eyes briefly. He never wore a watch because he wasn't into showing off his riches, and they had taken his cellphone. There were also no clocks on the walls. It was all in an attempt to get him to become anxious and angry so he'd be more willing to give them what they wanted. It wasn't going to work.

After what felt like another hour, the only door to the room opened up, and a single man entered. He looked professional, dressed in a suit and tie, and he carried a briefcase—no doubt holding all the falsified information on him.

"Mr. Eiseman, I will be your attorney this evening."

"You're fucking with me," Isa said. "They sent me a lawyer?"

"Well, someone did anyway. My name is Spencer."

Isa narrowed his eyes. A fake lawyer. It must be a trap. Isa folded his hands and sighed. He was stuck. A lawyer would be of no help to him at all at this point. His only option was to give the feds what they wanted—in a twisted, beat-around-the-bush kind of way. Maybe he could talk himself out of it. Maybe.

"How are you going to help me?" Isa asked indignantly. "I mean, what can I say? They planted drugs in my place and arrested me for no reason. Shouldn't this mean that I get to walk without going through all this bullshit?"

"Not quite," Spencer said. "You can't prove a thing. My only suggestion is that you lie to them."

Isa couldn't believe what he was hearing. Was this part of the trick? Some reverse psychology bullshit? Isa remained silent. He wasn't going to let his "ally" know what he was thinking. That would be indirect suicide.

"They'll be in to talk to you in a little bit," Spencer whispered. "I suggest you get a story and get it straight before they are in here, or you'll rot in jail for the rest of your life." He eyed Isa quickly. "And I'd say you're just about at that point."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

Spencer frowned. "You're shaking."

Isa didn't respond. He had felt the slight jitters a lot earlier. It was obviously because of his addiction to painkillers. It would only be a matter of time before he would start feeling stabs of pain that would render him useless. He'd become a simpering, pathetic junkie in just a few hours time, and would tell the feds anything they wanted to know for a fix. He'd seen it before.

Was he ashamed of himself for falling so low? Maybe, but he didn't have the time to dwell on something so mind numbing at the moment.

"What will you do?"

Isa grinned. "I'll figure it out."

As soon as Spencer fixed himself and picked up his briefcase, he left without another word. Isa secretly won, but he was still in trouble. He wasn't even allowed a phone call. Not a single phone call. This had to be a constitutional violation.

The door opened again. Two men entered, both looking very unhappy. Isa frowned.

"Lawrence," said one of the men. "We're going to give it to you straight. We don't want you."

Isa didn't respond.

"We want Isa. And we know that you know where he is."

_Yeah, he's sitting right in front of you, assholes, _Isa thought.

"So, you tell us where he is, and we let you go. That sounds like a mighty good deal to me."

Isa resisted the urge to snort at them. He found it funny. They were going to play good cop, bad cop. Good cop first. Good cop always came first. He merely remained silent.

"Look," said the agent, growing marginally more agitated. "We just want his location. A city, a town, a state even. We know you know."

Isa blinked slowly. "How do you know, huh? How can you tell me what it is that I know? That seems incredibly stupid to me. In fact, this is all stupid."

The second agent, who had not spoken a word since entering the room, opened his mouth. "We know because we received information that Angelina Godfrey, also known as the Free God or  
>Someone, has been threatened to protect either Lawrence Eiseman or Isa. Since she can only choose one, we have made a reasonable assumption that Isa will be who she chooses because as far as we have been able to gather, Isa is more important to her."<p>

Isa snorted as softly as he could. It was—to him at least—a better response than laughing at them. Aqua having to choose between protecting Lawrence Eiseman or Isa was unimaginably funny for some reason. Maybe because he didn't know Hayner had weaseled his way into blackmailing her, or maybe it was because he didn't know that Lawrence Eiseman and Isa were actually two very different people who just happened to be wearing the same skin.

But it was funny nonetheless.

Both agents frowned deeply. Their plan seemed to have not gone their way so now they were either going to turn into the devil's disciples (though, if one thought about it hard enough, they would really be lower in rank than Aqua and her armada of drug pushers) or they were going to leave Isa alone for a few more hours in hopes that he would crack under pressure. Or they could have let him go, but that would never have crossed their minds.

Maybe they needed a different approach.

"Why don't we let you sit a little longer?"

Isa shrugged. "Whatever, but I just want to let you know that you are violating my rights as an American."

They ignored him, and after a moment of direct eye to eye fisticuffs, they left him alone. But not after flipping off the light.

"Fuck me," Isa whispered.

* * *

><p>Aqua had spent at least three days with Zack, and not once did she leave his room, not once. She was fulfilling a deal which required her to bear a grandson to a corrupt financial leader and not only put Zack in danger, but herself as well. Not to mention that Hayner had fucked her in the worst way, and she was growing more and more worried with every passing minute. This surely was not a healthy way to live.<p>

"What changed your mind?"

Aqua, who had been nestled under the sheets, her fully nude body pressed close to Zack's, groaned softly and turned over. The feeling of her flesh against his made her wonder why she hadn't changed her mind sooner. It was unbelievable how well they fit together. Zack was so gentle and unafraid and naïve. It was magic, it had to be.

"What are you talking about?"

Zack smiled and huffed slightly, like he was trying to explain himself in a way that made him seem cooler than he was. "I mean, a little more than three days ago, you were avoiding me. I tried everything to get you go out with me, and nothing worked. And then you called me. I don't get it."

Aqua chuckled. "Chalk it up to the woman's mind." She nuzzled his chest. "We work in mysterious ways."

Zack patted her hair and sighed again. "You're telling me."

Aqua didn't want to move. She really didn't. She wanted to stay right where she was, and if she was going to get up, it was going to be for a shower before crawling back into bed. This was the life she should have had—of course, the life she _would've _had if she hadn't been on the wrong path for so long. For that, she blamed no one but herself, because—to be quite honest—her empire was truly crumbling around her, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Nothing at all.

"I'm going to have to leave soon," Aqua mumbled. "To take care of something."

"I'm sorry."

Aqua smiled. "Don't be. It's not your fault."

"That doesn't stop me from being sorry."

Aqua sighed. "Fine. Be difficult."

"I'm sorry."

Aqua playfully punched Zack and slid out of the bed, taking the sheets with her. Zack pulled the sheets back, but she was adamant about keeping them and he gave up after a second. Aqua quickly showered and dressed. The vibe in the room changed from a quiet sensuality to a taut business centered gloominess.

Zack hadn't moved.

"I have to go to Miami for a little bit," Aqua explained. "I have something I need to take care of and someone I need to find. I shouldn't be gone for too long."

"Okay," Zack said, a little uninterested.

"I don't want you to leave this room."

"Now I'm your prisoner, huh?"

Aqua glared at him. "If you want to see it like that, fine. But I mean it. I don't want you to leave. You could get hurt if you do."

Zack sat up, clearly not liking the sudden shift in attitude. "So you're going to keep me in the dark again? Why not just tell me what it is you're up to? I could help."

Aqua, though tempted to yell at him, decided against it and grabbed a few of the belongings that she had left with him—a bag and handgun. "I will call you when I get there. Don't do anything to piss anybody off."

Zack grumbled under his breath a little bit, but did not say anything. He reclined again and huffed angrily. This was not how he wanted to spend his time after finally getting what he wanted. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with Aqua, he was sure of that. But, just like with their fleeting moments together long ago, he was denied his chance at eternal happiness.

Aqua left the room and stepped onto the elevator. There was only one other person there and they paid her no mind. Aqua debated on how much she wanted to go get Isa. Hayner wanted Isa back, but in actuality, he didn't. He wanted Lawrence Eiseman.

But, Hayner didn't know that Lawrence was long gone. Isa was a monster that had eaten Lawrence alive, much like Aqua had eaten Angelina. There was no going back to that innocence, that naïve stupidity. Neither one of them was going to get that back.

However, Aqua didn't trust that Isa was not going to screw her over, and the faster she got him back, the faster she could control the damage Hayner had done. Maybe it was better just to kill both of them and move on. But, she couldn't bring herself to do it.

Killing Isa would bring about a feud between her and Philadelphia, and that was a fight she didn't want.

She did not talk to anybody on her way to the airport. Aqua, the ever powerful Someone, had officially dropped off the face of the Earth.

* * *

><p>This was bad. So very very bad. And Yuffie could feel it. She had been talking to Julian Fair, trying to figure out what was going on. She had foolishly explained what the situation was and despite her best efforts at regaining control over her section of the country—the over glorified "Golden Coast"—she was failing miserably. And it was because she had no idea what she was doing. Julian knew this all along. Julian had planned for this. Of course somebody who was just handed as much money and power as Yuffie had would mess it up. Royally.<p>

"I don't know what to do, Julian." Yuffie was pacing Julian's office in worry. She had been looking for Aqua so they could have a civil conversation that was actually civil, but she was not as good as talking her way into favors as she thought she was. "I can't find her."

"Well, there would be a reason for that," Julian replied coolly. "She obviously just doesn't trust you. She's hiding from you. Probably planning to take everything you have before she has you killed."

Yuffie grew fearful and her heart began to pound. "No. We came to an agreement…sort of. I know Aqua is a lot of things, but she doesn't go back on her word. At least, not that I've seen. And she knows that if she were to lie to me there wouldn't be a force on this earth that would protect her from all out war. She knows that much."

"And yet, she disrespected you in a way that you can't seem to get off your conscious. I can see that you are still up in arms over the way she greeted you the first time you met face to face." Julian hummed thoughtfully. "That humiliation and powerlessness you felt. I would think that that's a sign. At least in some sort of twisted fashion. Women are so hard to decipher."

Yuffie growled. "Not as hard to decipher as that Rufus guy. I don't think you should risk what you're risking. It seems off to me."

Julian chuckled. "I think so, too, but the reason your little empire is crumbling around you is because he moved over here to cause some trouble. I despise little shits like that. Boys who want to prove that they are better because they can cause a financial meltdown whenever they want. He didn't even bother to look over the terms of his contract. That merger he's tearing himself over for is going to be his ultimate undoing. He's not aware of it, and I don't think you are either, but you are both in the same boat. And it's sinking fast."

Julian blinked and stood up. He had been sitting whilst watching Yuffie pace in her state of mind, but now was the time for action. Rufus was going to make it very difficult for him to secure his heir, since if Aqua did manage to get pregnant and was able to carry to full term, there was no telling what Rufus would do. Knowing him, he would have Aqua killed and then go after the baby. And as much as Julian didn't want to admit it, times were changing. And things were not going to go back to the way they were now that there was so much turmoil everywhere. Everybody was getting their knickers in a twist.

He figured it was about time to usher in some tranquility. He needed fewer obstacles in his path. He had no idea how the underground worked as far as drugs were concerned, but he had a fair assessment of how Yuffie worked. He couldn't predict Aqua's movements so much, but maybe that wouldn't be an issue. He would just have to help Yuffie along in making a decision. The _right_ decision.

"How are you going to handle Aqua's sudden disappearance?"

Yuffie was taken aback by the question. Tifa had made it clear that whatever was about to happen, she was going to have no part of it. This was an East versus West conflict. Yuffie had a lot of decisions to make, a lot of options to consider, and not a lot of time to do so. The longer Aqua was unaccounted for, the longer she had to plan a better retaliation. Yuffie was running out of time and resources. Her side of the country was in the midst of anarchy, and all her largest groups were starting to squabble amongst themselves. This was terrible news.

"I don't know. I…really just have no idea." Yuffie sighed. So, she finally admitted it to herself. "I should…fight back? But I have no army and everything is going to shit. If Rufus would have stayed a little longer, I would have this. But he left and took all my leverage with him. My only major connection was with him. And with Pierce. But trying to get a Senator to do anything in an election year is out of the question. He wouldn't budge even if I begged him."

Julian smirked. This was his opening. "Ah, but a woman in your position shouldn't have to beg for anything. You're the one in control, right? You're the one with the power."

Yuffie grew hot just thinking about it. Her anger was beginning to boil under the surface, and the flushed red of her cheeks showed just how malleable she was at the moment. Julian had only one chance.

"Why don't you show how much control over the situation you have? I'm sure you could use something to strengthen the dwindling faith people have in you as a leader. And you know how leaders show their strength, right?"

Yuffie furrowed her brow. "By leading."

"That's exactly right. And you must be the one to lead your subordinates to victory. Victory makes people have faith. Victory makes people submissive. Try it."

Yuffie took a deep breath. "How?"

"Win a war."

"You mean declare war against Aqua."

"If that's what it takes. Clear out some of the trash that's built up." Julian was cackling inside. He was going to give Rufus one hell of a time trying to control this spitfire of a Queenpin. "I don't know Aqua well enough to guess her every move, but I can reasonably assume that if she were under attack at this very moment, she would not lift a finger to defend herself. She has no one to fight for her. No one at all. Not right now. But you don't know what she's doing to fix that.

"She seems like she might be a bit down, but she's a smart one. She'll destroy you. I know this is hard to hear, but you have me on your side now. I will not allow someone I'm invested in to fail miserably. Do what you think is right. Do what you think will make you look stronger in the eyes of your peers."

Yuffie thought long and hard about what Julian was saying. Everything seemed to fit perfectly the way he was explaining it. Declaring war on Aqua would be easy enough, and since she was currently missing, there would be no one to lead the East Coast drug empire. This would be easy, and even if Yuffie lost a lot of her soldiers, winning a war on this scale would catapult her into a seat of power that not even Tifa would be able to comprehend. And then she could conquer the Mid-States. This was sounding better and better the more Yuffie mulled it over in her head.

She smiled at Julian, who raised a shot glass to her, and she left without saying another word. As soon as she was in the elevator that would take her to the lobby, she opened her cellphone, dialed a number that she had memorized a long time ago, and held the device to her ear.

In that moment, the door to chaos was opened. There was no stopping this exclamation. There was nothing that was going to be able to calm the storm that was brewing just over the horizon, for there was going to be no will to stop it. There would be no opposition whatsoever because this was something much bigger than any politician, bigger than any scientist or entrepreneur, bigger than any religion.

Yuffie giggled to herself as she uttered a single command into the funnel of the West Coast's drug rings. "We're going to war."

* * *

><p>This autumn was rather uninteresting for the most part. The leaves had changed their colors, the wind was beginning to bite a little bit harder, and the sky was starting to swirl into a light bray mass of overcast clouds and disappointments. It was a strange time of the year, where one day was a warm as spring and another was as cold as the dead of winter. The weather couldn't seem to want to make up its mind. Not that it had to. This was a perfect day for evil to fester, especially with a holiday like Halloween approaching so quickly.<p>

However, on the day of Cloud and Namine's wedding, the air was warm and the clouds were relatively white. This was meant to be the universe's way of saying that this union of man and woman was one that was going to last for a lifetime. It really was picturesque.

They had decided to hold it outside in a public park. It was a split second change on Namine's part, for she was hesitant to have such an important connection to one church in a city she didn't have any roots in. The wedding planners were more than welcome to accommodate and assist—if only because Aqua had provided a rather large sum of expendable income—and the leaves had all been swept away, and the trees were decorated with linens, and the tent was erected without a single hitch. This truly was going to be a magical day.

Cloud was waiting anxiously in the groom's tent. He was clammy, and even though everything was telling him that he needed to be packing some kind of heat, he refused to do it. It was mostly for Namine's sake, but he just had that feeling that something wasn't right. And it didn't help that maybe he was starting to get cold feet. That maybe it would be better to wait out the winter, just in case more ghosts from his past decided to show up. He was of course thinking of Mason Sephiroth.

But he told Mason to leave, and there was no way he would show up to this wedding. There couldn't be. The few contacts Cloud still had in D.C weren't reporting anything about Mason, so he had to have left the city. He was almost sure of it, but he just really couldn't shake that feeling from his soul.

He was dressed and ready to go, but his pacing was relentless. It almost seemed that it was contagious because Namine was doing exactly the same thing in her tent. She was careful to pick up the hem of her dress as she strode back and forth, but she also couldn't seem to shake something. The ghosts of her past were not as evil as Cloud's but she had a few herself, and she feared that something would go amiss. Her pregnancy hadn't been going very well even though she assured Cloud that everything was okay. Truth be told, there was something not right about the way she felt about this child.

And she feared that it might have actually been Terra's.

The thought occurred to her in a dream, because of the way everything was falling, her last encounter with Terra was very close to the first encounter with Cloud, though none of her encounters with Terra had been consensual. The dream was alarming and it made her feel rotten for a long time. She was strong though. She would be able to pull through this without giving away what she was really concerned about.

The more she thought about it, the more it began to make sense, and the more it began to distress her. What if the child was Terra's? Would Cloud still love her?

Her immediate response was yes. Yes, Cloud would still love her, and yes he would stay to take care of the child even if it wasn't his by blood.

Kairi poked her head into Namine's tent, smiling. As soon as she saw Namine, she stopped and slipped in, wearing a dress of her own.

"What's wrong?" Kairi asked. "Are you okay?"

Namine instantly stopped her pacing. "Yes. I'm just nervous. I…I'm going to be fine. Just a lot on my mind."

Kairi smiled softly again. "If you want to talk about it, I'm here. Are you getting cold feet?"

"No!" Namine felt that was a bit forced. "I know this is right. I can feel it. It's just…maybe it's where we are in life. Cloud wanted to move to D.C because he has things to do. And I'm not going to stop him from doing those things. But I think it might be because of what I had to go through there. You don't really know about it, and I'd rather not say, but I just wish I knew why it had to be here. In Philadelphia. I don't want to be here. We don't know the city and even though I had a hard time in D.C. at least I knew where everything was…but I also…just…"

"I understand," Kairi muttered. "I get it. Don't try to put it into words. Do you still want to get married?"

"Yes, I do."

"Then the place shouldn't matter. You're with him, and he's going to protect you and your baby no matter what. Just have faith in that. Everything else doesn't matter."

Namine didn't feel comforted by Kairi's words. But she didn't quite write them off either. She was stuck in the middle of too many different battles, some physical, some not. She sighed a thank you, gave Kairi a quick hug, and Kairi left without pressing the matter. Kairi understood what Namine was going through because it wasn't that much unlike what she and Sora were going through.

But that was a can of worms, Kairi wasn't going to touch until Sora grew up a little bit. She could see school was weighing down on him, and her job was beginning to take a toll on her as well. And then she was worried sick about Riku. She respected and loved him like family, but his behavior was getting out of control and there was nothing she could do to help him, because he was destroyed by that woman.

Aqua.

The thought alone of what Aqua did to Riku made her flushed angrily. She knew exactly what she would say if she ever saw that harpy of a manipulative bitch face to face. She would scream at her and try her best to make Aqua feel like a terrible human being not worth the air she breathes. And she would wish that Marluxia had killed her.

Except, she would never be able to truly believe that. That kind of treatment was something that nobody should ever have seen. It should have been something that only a twisted fuck of an author would have conjured up. Something that would have only been in a movie.

Kairi instantly hated herself for wishing something like that, and her body ached and felt breathless as the memory of that night flooded her with a variety of emotions. Fear, hatred, despair and hopelessness. It was such a dispiriting feeling, and it almost felt that even though she had lived through that, it had been just a really bad dream. That it wasn't real.

This pushed her close to crying, but she couldn't add anymore burdens on her friends. That's what people did sometimes. They sacrificed their peace of mind to help lessen the burdens on others.

_Just like Zeke._

But Kairi was nothing like Zexion. They were as different as day and night. Kairi frowned. This was a lot harder than she thought it was going to be. Attending a wedding in this frame of mind was not going to be a good combination. She felt sick and unwanted, and then that rush of guilt when she recognized the slight feelings of lust that accompanied her internal distress.

And her thoughts wandered to Zeke and Felix.

How could she be feeling this way? Namine was happy. Cloud was happy. Why couldn't she be happy too? Why was the one turning over in this pool of mismatched emotions? People who suffered traumas as horrid as the explosion and crumbling of an entire building were not supposed to have moments of lust, and they were not supposed to long for the embrace of people who could not understand. She couldn't have feelings for a man who had been responsible for the disasters that had befallen her and her friends. She couldn't have feelings for somebody that she didn't know.

That's not how it was supposed to be. She was supposed to be smitten with Sora, and only Sora. Because Sora was the only one who could understand what she was feeling. He was the only one who could relate to her, who could honestly mean that he was sorry when he hugged her. He was the only one who could understand the heartbreak and agony and sadness that overwhelmed her. But for some reason, things weren't clicking as easily as they had before.

Text messaging was strained, and face to face conversations were difficult. Not to mention that Sora seemed so much angrier than before. Full of this rage that stemmed from a place Kairi couldn't understand. The Keyblade. She was sure that that enigma was turning Sora into some kind of machine meant to do great things. Terrible on occasion, but still great.

_I'm not meant to be a warrior._

Kairi groaned aloud, but she was interrupted by a slight huff. When she turned around, one of the wedding planners was ushering her along. It was almost time for the ceremony, and these planners were not going to have a hair fall out of place on Namine and Cloud's perfect day. Kairi didn't protest, as she was moved to the alter and given a bouquet of flowers. They were a beautiful pale pink, but the color reminded Kairi of the pink demon's hair and she cringed, feeling a hotness creep over her. She felt trapped. Chained to this altar while Marluxia pranced around, preparing to light her on fire. This anxiety built rapidly, and Kairi couldn't help but breathe faster and she broke into a cold sweat. This was terrifying.

She gripped the flowers tighter, trying not to seem out of touch with reality. It seemed to be working, because nobody questioned her.

The music started and Namine began her slow march to the altar. Kairi looked at Namine's face. It was drained of color and veiled with concern. Kairi guessed that she looked the same way to Namine, but either one of them would dare mention it, for fear of opening floodgates of emotion that would never close. However, Namine was radiant, and she seemed to glow even though she was so heavily burdened. Those who did not know the hardships of their lives were in awe of her beauty, and they were all smiling. Even Mick was able to attend, and he smiled despite his conscious.

Cloud stared at Namine with a muddled love in his eyes. The muddled condition of his stare came from a curtain of regret that was hanging over him, threatening to chop his head off. That regret was making a deal with Aqua, and his shook visibly from his paranoia and his nerves. There was so much going on, and he was a container filled to the brim. One more drop was all it would take for him to lose his cool. And that was quickly approaching.

The air fell still. Namine and Cloud were staring into each other's eyes, each trying to hide their worries for the sake of the other, and they both broke into the happiest and sincerest smiles they could muster. This day was going to be perfect. Nothing was wrong, and nothing was ever going to be wrong. Even if it didn't seem that way at the time.

After exchanging their vows and kissing each other, the whole crowd sighed in relief and several bottles of champagne were opened in celebration. Sora and Riku were not allowed to drink, though they both sorely felt the need to. Namine wasn't going to allow them to destroy themselves on her watch. Cloud handed her a tall glass of sparkling water and they drank to their marriage.

The tension that forced the atmosphere to lay flat loosened, and Philadelphia didn't seem that bad anymore. In fact, it was a gorgeous historical city. It was a perfect place for making history. Cloud and Namine's history.

Mick spoke to many of the guests at the weddings. He kept conversation short, for there were more than a few things on his mind. Most notably, what had happened in Scranton, Pennsylvania, and the ongoing investigation into Aqua. There was a lot that went into his next few decisions, and he did not have enough information to accurately paint the picture.

The first thing that was beginning to grate his ability to stay calm was the meeting he had with Xigbar. He had just walked up to them and gave them all this information. Why? Was it to sabotage the Organization? Or was it to hinder Mick's efforts? This didn't make sense on a variety of levels and everything was going from black and white to stark gray.

Something wasn't adding up.

He sighed deeply, and he felt a tap on the shoulder. He turned on the spot and when he saw Aqua, he dropped his glass. Luckily, the grass beneath his feet cushioned the glass enough to avoid it from shattering, but the snarl that came from his mouth was near inhuman.

"What are you doing here?"

Aqua looked almost as shocked as he was. "I should be asking you the same thing. Why aren't you in New York?"

"Why aren't you?"

Aqua folded her arms casually. "I'm busy right now. I thought I would stop in to see the lovely young couple. I am paying for it, after all."

"If Riku sees you—"

Aqua chuckled. "He won't unless you bring attention to yourself. Good thing we're on grass or this would be going very differently right now."

"Is that a threat?"

"That's the truth." Aqua glared at him. "That seems to be something you like to avoid considering. What the truth is. But I didn't come here to lecture you about your philosophies. I came here to cash in your end of our deal."

"No—"

"I gave you Riku. He's broken and nearly dead inside, but he's a much better fighter for you and you and I both know that. I wanted one favor in return, and I am here for it. Though this could hardly count as a favor."

Mick growled at Aqua, and if she had been a lesser woman, she would have cowered before him. She didn't even bat an eye even though she was fully aware of how close Mick was to possibly attacking her. Mick forced himself to take a deep breath, and he shielded himself with a bright smile. "What seems to be the problem, Miss?"

"The FBI has taken a Lawrence Eiseman into custody." Aqua paused for a brief moment. "I want him back."

Mick laughed merrily, though there was a stagnant layer of poison underneath it. "That is something I can't give you. If he got caught on his own, that's no skin off my nose. I have no idea who that even is, so what would be the point?"

Aqua raised an eyebrow. "You should know him. He owns all of this." She made a half-hearted gesture to the City. "And I need him. I don't care if he says he's not going anywhere, I want him back, and you're going to bring him to me."

"No, I'm not."

Aqua laughed. "I almost believed you for a second, but you don't have the slightest idea what's going on around you, do you? You realize that this is about to become a war zone, right? Do you even pay attention to anything?"

"You're not going to patronize me, you ungrateful bitch. The only reason you're still free is because I haven't help with the investigation into you."

"Oh please, as if I didn't know I'm being looked into." Aqua snorted and took a glass of champagne from one of the waiters passing by. "I command an army of violent criminals that could probably best most of the police forces along the coast, and you think they _wouldn't _have somebody looking for me? You're stupid. But I'm not going to push all your buttons. Just the ones that matter."

"You're wearing my patience thin."

Aqua shrugged. "Whatever it takes to stop an unnecessary war. I think we've had enough of those, don't you think?"

Mick frowned. Now he was confused. The Heartless were gone. Aqua didn't have anymore major enemies anymore. She had cleverly used a lot of her different avenues to help Mick with his cause—as much as it pained him to admit that—and it was because of her that Diz was flushed out into the open the way he was. But a thanks was not in order. Not when Aqua was bluffing her way into freeing a man who probably was very high up in her circle of friends. He wasn't going to fall for it.

"Looks like you're out of luck," Mick said, smiling triumphantly. "I don't care what happens to you. You're on your own."

Aqua sighed. "I suppose so. You deny me my request. Now you're going to have one hell of a shitstorm coming your way. You have about four days before the first legions of followers come along. If she even has enough for a first legion."

Suddenly Mick was not so triumphant. That was not the response he had been expecting. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, now you're curious." Aqua smiled. "That's funny. Dance with me, Senator Mouse. You have much to learn. Even your crooked ways are not as crooked as mine. This is surprising, considering I have a code of honor. Well, half a code of honor. Better than nothing."

"You are pushing it."

"And when your city is decimated by what could possibly be coming, you won't be singing the same tune. This has become a mutual exchange of information. I am no longer asking you for a favor, since you denied me. I will have to wait for another opportunity to use it."

Mick glanced around. Riku was preoccupied with Sora, so he was going to suffer through one dance in order to make a few things clear. Hopefully Riku wouldn't feel the need to seek him out in the next few minutes. He took Aqua's hand and guided her to the dance floor that had been set up in the grass. There were a couple of people already there, but this next dance was all about Mick and Aqua, even if nobody else acknowledged that. Mick was gentle though. There was no need to manhandle this woman no matter how much trouble she caused.

All a part of the façade.

"So, how do these mutual exchanges of information go?" Mick asked softly. He couldn't risk being overheard.

"You're not as charming as you were when you were campaigning. You should take a few lessons," Aqua whispered back. "It's simple. I tell you something you don't know, and you return the gesture. You have until the song is over."

They twirled around, staying in motion constantly. Aqua was clearly the leader, but Mick let it pass for now. He was in a tight spot and couldn't allow things to turn sour. Not on Cloud and Namine's special day.

Mick thought for a long time. There was very little that he knew that Aqua didn't already know. The only thing he could think of was the status if her investigation. But since she already knew about the investigation itself, there would be no point in telling her about that. He didn't have anything else. Nothing at all. This saddened him immensely.

Aqua turned reassuringly. "Don't worry about trying to impress me, Mick. I'll go first. Tell me something you want to know, and I'll see what I can do for you. It's that easy. Not rocket science, babe."

Mick's mind flew into a panic. What did he want to know about first? Though a better approach would have been what did he _need _to know first? The first thing that jumped to mind was what war Aqua was referring to, but he was not going to go for that bait. For all he knew, that could have been a lie and he was wasting a good chance to go after what he really wanted.

"The Organization XIII," Mick said quietly. "What do you know?"

Aqua furrowed her brow. The name seemed familiar, but not enough to give any kind of information. "Sorry, try again. I never heard of them."

"Really?" Mick seemed surprised. "I would think that would have been at the top of your list. That's shocking. I know something you don't know. Feels like a game."

Aqua chuckled. "They don't call it 'The Game' for nothing. There is a reason for it. But I've never heard of the Organization XIII. That doesn't sound too promising. Looks like I have a new enemy to watch out for, then. Fun times."

"Do I get another chance?" Mick asked. There was a hint of sarcasm behind that question, but Aqua ignored it.

"I guess I'll give you one do-over."

"This war."

"I should have guessed." Aqua sighed. "My West Coast equivalent has declared war on the East Coast."

"What?" Mick hissed. "How can that be possible?"

"Well, when an idiot is given a large amount of power and money in one sitting without having to really work for it, things can get tense between the newbies and the veterans. It was that way with the old guard, it's that way in the military, and this is no different. It's funny that they think they can beat me because they're all a bunch of young, violent, teenagers trying to make a mark to gain some ground. They really are unafraid. But I plan to crush them."

Mick tensed. "You're not dragging Riku into another war. You are not."

"I wasn't planning on it. You have much bigger problems to deal with, I'm sure. Things that a lot of people are terrified of. I'd hop to it before it gets out of control."

Mick narrowed his eyes. That was a strange turn of conversation. "Since when are you interested in what I'm doing?"

"Since one of my runners killed a creature in the sewers that had no business being in there."

"What were your people doing in there?"

"That's not the focus of this conversation, Senator." Aqua blinked, becoming very serious. "I saw that creature's body. It was not anything natural, and if you have a crime syndicate running in your city that has the capabilities of creating monstrosities, you better figure out your plan of action, before I do it for you. I do not need any of this bullshit right now. It was supposed to be over by now and it's not going according to plan, so you have a very cranky bitch on your side of the battleground."

"We're allies?"

Aqua laughed. "Hardly. But you and I fight for the same thing. You fight for what's 'right' and I fight for what's smart. I don't see how they differ that much. Except you seem a bit radical for your cause."

"Now you're not making any sense."

Aqua pushed away from Mick as the song came to a close. "Well, it could be worse, Senator. You could be the only one preventing a disastrous financial decline. Think about that for a second before you go making rash moves. I'm not the only player in this game anymore. In fact, I'm probably the least of your worries. You have monsters to catch now, don't you? Leave the gods alone for a little bit."

Mick was deeply troubled by Aqua's parting comment. Something seemed wrong about the way she was talking to him. Like she knew exactly what he was thinking as he was thinking it. But what monsters was she talking about? Surely it couldn't be a real monster. Real monsters didn't exist. Real monsters didn't hide under the bed, and they didn't have gnashing teeth and vicious claws. Those were stories. The real monsters were people like Marluxia and Xehanort.

But she looked so scared when she mentioned that creature. Was it possible that she was telling the truth? Mick doubted it, but he could feel the fear wrapping around him when she spoke of it. Maybe it was real. And if she was telling the truth, then he had to get back on the Organization through any means necessary.

It was at this point that he realized he was completely lost. All the leads he had vanished fairly quickly after the hotel was bombed. Xigbar never showed up again. He didn't see a thing, and Braig was not speaking to him. Even Everett was missing in action. This was going to have to change. Something was going to have to give.

He was going to have to get Lawrence Eiseman out of FBI custody. And he didn't have the slightest idea how he was going to do that. However, Sora and Riku's trip to Scranton was going to have to happen now. Not even in the morning. It had to happen today. There was no time to think about it.

Not anymore.

* * *

><p><em>To Whom This May Concern,<em>

_I regret to inform you that your home in Scranton is not the best place for you to thrive, for I am sure you have grown bored over the last few weeks you have been indulging yourself in the way you have. Do not be alarmed. I have been keeping tabs on you and you are not living by that little mantra I explained to you when we met last. You keep holding yourself back and it is hurting you to do so._

_I would consider you an intelligent man, and even if I am mistaken, you are influenced by your hunger and your lust. Whether that stems from your humanity or your monstrosity, I have not been able to determine as of yet. I would like to meet to discuss with you the terms of your new lifestyle, since I do think that you are moving onto bigger and better things in the future._

_You will not be required to write back. I doubt any mailman would be able to find this address, but I can give you one of my own. It will be scribbled onto a spare sheet of paper. Please meet me at this address in one week's time. I'm afraid I will be busy until then. A very good friend of mine is working on a special present for me. One that I look forward to immensely. I also look forward to your visit. Maybe then you will tell me your name so I don't sound so informal. Perhaps you might even meet more of your kind, which would be a very exciting meeting indeed._

_I look forward to seeing you, kind sir._

_-Dr. Christopher Xehanort._

* * *

><p><strong>I hope you enjoyed this. Hopefully I was able to pick this up without it feeling too disjointed. Let me know how you feel about it.<strong>_  
><em>

**Has a nice day, from the both of us.  
><strong>


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